Curse of the House of Elrond
by Ripper101
Summary: Elrond has a problem and few things we didn't know about his abilities come to the light, much to the wonder of his family. Did you never wonder why Elrond was so emotional about his children? Warning: Slash and mpreg.
1. 1

Pairing: Not sure at the moment. I don't think I'll include the father. Let's see how it goes.  
  
Disclaimer: Never claimed to have owned 'em, so please don't sue!  
  
Author' Note: I've never read an Elrond mpreg in which Elrond gets pregnant, so I'm writing one. I thought it would be hilarious to see this doomsayer elf and unruffled lord put up with widening girth, swollen ankles and the ever-popular morning sickness. Heeheehee... I'm evil!  
  
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"I'm fine," Elrond protested, feeling ridiculously terrified as his children hovered over him. Well, he should really have said 'child', since it was only Arwen and Estel was not, in fact, his child at all even though he had brought him up as his. And now Estel was in love with Arwen and if they really had been siblings... he shuddered to think of it.  
  
"Ada, perhaps if you told us what was wrong," Arwen suggested delicately, pushing a dark strand of hair behind her father's ear, "We could help you."  
  
"No!" Elrond didn't mean to shout, he really didn't. But his head was spinning.  
  
Arwen flinched back and turned appealing eyes on Aragorn. The man shifted uncomfortably, but he had promised to make the offer- "Lord Elrond, maybe I can help. After all, you've trained me in the basic practises of the healer's craft. I might be able to- to..." silver eyes peeped up darkly at him from behind a very capable hand, "... to help?"  
  
"Thank you," Elrond bit out, "But I would prefer some time alone to rest. I believe I am myself a healer? Well, let me take care of this." So saying, he went back to his hand and hid behind it, not willing to let them see just how weak he was feeling.  
  
Arwen and Aragorn sent each other a despairing look. Arwen patted her father's shoulder one last time and they took their leave. It wasn't that they particularly wanted to leave him alone; just that they didn't know what else to do. After all, the Lord of Imladris did not just faint in corridors for no reason whatsoever! Come to that, elves in general did not faint anywhere for no reason whatsoever, and as they only ever fainted in illness-which was a dire situation indeed for the First Born- this was not boding well. But Lord Elrond was also very used to having his orders obeyed and disobeying them now would only excite him and quite possibly do him no good.  
  
Aragorn took up a post just outside the door. "I'll stay here for a while in case anything happens," he promised, "Should he need help, I'll hear him."  
  
Arwen nodded. "I will go see Glorfindel. He might perhaps know what is happening to Ada. At any rate, he can make him stop working so hard for a few days."  
  
They shared another look, and Arwen departed, walking lightly away with a firm tread and a smooth swish of her gown.  
  
Aragorn allowed himself to let his eyes worship her retreating back just that little bit more obviously, admiring the way her hair flowed down her back and the way her slender grace swayed as if imbued with the ethereal rhythm of the earth itself. The sounds of desperate retching interrupted his reverie.  
  
Alarmed, Aragorn wasted no more time standing outside the door but bolted in, falling instantly to his foster father's side and holding his hair back as the elf leaned frantically over the basin on the floor.  
  
Elrond didn't have the presence of mind at the time to demand he be left alone. All he was aware of was the churning of his stomach and the fact that he felt terribly and indescribably in need of comfort. Indeed he felt like whimpering like an elfling as the galling acids burnt his throat and made his gasp.  
  
"Ssh, it's all right," Aragorn soothed, close proximity allowing him to pick up on the hitched breath that came so close to a groan. He stroked the slender back besides him, shifting the weight of the dark hair to one hand.  
  
"E-Estel?"  
  
"I'm right here."  
  
Elrond took a few deep, cleansing breathes- which might have been more cleansing if he hadn't still been leaning over the basin- and wrested back his control. Jerking away, he turned angry eyes on his son. "And I distinctly remember telling you to be anywhere but here. Why are you back?"  
  
Aragorn looked a little sheepish.  
  
Elrond knew what the unspoken explanation was. "You never left," he completed with a sigh, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, "You stood outside the door, I suppose. It explains how you heard me, though I usually manage not to be quite so loud."  
  
"Usually?" Aha! His Ada was looking rather worried now. If he hadn't been a serious and majestic Elf Lord, Aragorn would have expected him to shove his hands guiltily behind him and protest that he hadn't eaten the cookies, honest. "Ada? Is there something you are keeping from us?"  
  
"No," Elrond said carefully, turning to head for his bathroom, "Call someone to clean that mess up, would you? I'd do it myself but I'm a little exhausted."  
  
"Ada."  
  
Elrond risked glancing back at the man, who was staring at him with penetrating eyes, his dark hair swirling messily around his determined face as he crossed his arms in that patient gesture that promised he could wait forever for the answers he wanted. And the Ranger only ever called him Ada in that special tone of voice on special occasions.  
  
"Ada, you could tell me now, or I'll ride out to find Elladan and Elrohir and get them to come back. And once they are back, we'll gather everyone in your library including Glorfindel and Erestor, and hold a council of intervention on your behalf."  
  
Elrond disappeared into the bathroom and Aragorn heard the sounds of water being disturbed.  
  
"I can assure you it will be very unpleasant for you," Aragorn continued, a grave look on his face though he stopped himself approaching the door of the wash room, "Glorfindel will likely get excited and start yelling. Erestor will worry and follow you around like a nursemaid for the next two weeks. Elladan and Elrohir will be no better, and they'll probably refuse to go anywhere until you tell them what the matter is. Arwen will try anything to coax it out of you with patient reasoning and I myself will be forced to be everywhere you are if only to ensure that someone stops the horde from trampling over you in their eagerness to see you in good health."  
  
Elrond reappeared with his hair wet and a cloth in his hands. His eyes were cold and calculating as they swept over Aragorn's face. He had obviously just dunked his entire head into the bath of cold water. The Ranger could see the shining beads of liquid catch the sunlight from the window and look like fiery diamonds in the dark hair.  
  
"You paint a terrifying picture, young one," the elf finally sighed, "When did you become so persuasive?"  
  
"I learnt from the best, Ada," Aragorn grinned, "You taught me yourself!"  
  
A gruff 'hmmph' seemed to resonate in the pale throat before Elrond took himself to the chair near the window, sitting down with a sigh and swaying forward to drop his head in his hands as his eyes closed. Aragorn was with him in a minute, dropping a hand to his shoulder in silent comfort. Interestingly enough, Elrond sighed and leaned yearningly into the touch.  
  
"Please tell us what's wrong," Aragorn pressed gently, tightening his grip as the shoulder stiffened beneath his fingers. "We want you healthy and happy, that's all."  
  
Now how in the world was Elrond supposed to stand firm against that, shame or not? This was, after all, the child he had raised and taught and lectured and cuddled. The child... oh Valar, but he couldn't do this! And time was growing short. If he wanted to abort his pregnancy, he'd have to do it by the end of the week and he couldn't! Just couldn't! The potion was in a bottle in his office and he could barely force himself to go in there, knowing what he had to do. Unconsciously, he laid a hand on his flat stomach, trembling with the realization that life grew inside him, a life that could well destroy him and his family if it were to grow another few days.  
  
"My Lord, Arwen said... Elrond!"  
  
Elrond's head shot up, just in time to see a pair of bright blue eyes turn dark with worry. For the love of Elbereth, did Glorfindel have to come for him now? He sat up straighter, put his hand down and ruthlessly banished his fears for when he was alone. He got to his feet slowly, his robes flowing as he adjusted them properly and fixed an impatient grey eye on the anxious Glorfindel.  
  
"Elrond, what happened? Is something wrong? Arwen said you fainted and then I find you here in this condition! Are you ill?"  
  
Elrond said nothing, though he shook his head for a minute. A wild reasoning had gripped his brain. Perhaps he wouldn't have to blame himself for the death of this child... perhaps there were others who could take the blame. And what was more, perhaps... yes, perhaps he would be able to find some way around it! The others might know what to do.  
  
Suddenly smiling a happier smile than anyone had seen for years, Elrond turned shining eyes to Aragorn. "Ion nin, perhaps you should send that rider to find Elladan and Elrohir. I have great need of my family's advice and I will not be at peace until they hear my news from my own lips. Glorfindel, you will attend too, will you not? And Erestor? You are not family, but we are close as brothers."  
  
Glorfindel automatically took the hands held out to him. "I would certainly like to know why you're acting so strangely," he admitted, "Does it have aught to do with your mysterious ailment?"  
  
Shockingly enough, the Lord of Imladris blushed- actually blushed to the tips of his ears- as he nodded somewhat wryly. "Yes, it has everything to do with it. And I must ask everyone's patience until then. I may be ill again tomorrow. But it is of no consequence and I will be better soon."  
  
Glorfindel actually looked scared, but nodded his blond head, blinking as Elrond practically danced out of the room with an elvish song on his lips. Elrond singing? Elrond never sang! And if he did, it was a melancholy air of great sorrow or dignity; not that kind of gentle humming.  
  
The Elf Lord turned to an equally bemused Aragorn, who was staring from his father's retreating back to the soiled basin still in the room. "I think we may have a problem," the man said quietly. 


	2. 2

The two twins rode back beside the messenger clad discretely enough to blend in with their treacherous surroundings. Both were travel stained and tired. Patrols tended to be like that and they had been gone on a four- month one this time. A third elf accompanied the two of them, in much the same condition but somehow looking less scruffy with his bright golden hair and fair skin.  
  
"Was he alright when you left?" Elladan asked anxiously. Being the eldest, he felt it his duty to worry about the serious matters of living. And for Elrond to be unwell was a very serious matter. "Were there injuries?"  
  
The messenger shook his head patiently. "Nay, there were none. Lord Elrond was tired, but otherwise unharmed. He said to tell you both expressly not to worry, that all would be explained when you reach Imladris."  
  
"Then why do we plod like old men?" Elrohir growled impatiently, "Let us go faster!"  
  
"Calm yourself, Elrohir," Legolas cautioned, his eyes fixed warily around at the silent forest, "This place contains or has recently seen danger. Listen to the whispers of the trees and see how no small woodland animal ventures out to our approach."  
  
Elrohir collapsed back into a slow walk, muttering dark curses about tree elves who were too clever for their own good. Legolas grinned a little but held his tongue too. He would have liked to have questioned the messenger himself on Elrond's mysterious troubles but did not want to talk if he could help it. That, and it really wasn't his business.  
  
The messenger had come only for Elladan and Elrohir, not him. He had only been persuaded to go back with them because he was alone and the twins insisted their father would disown them on the spot for letting the Crown Prince of Mirkwood make the journey back to his own lands without aid. And Legolas could quite believe that trouble would be caused. Elrond loved his children with an ardour unusual for elves, but hospitality and Lordly protection were never trifles to him. The Lord of Rivendell would half-kill Legolas himself for the insult of even considering it.  
  
Once out of the dangerous part of the wood, the four took to their horses' heels and raced back, thundering through the beauty of Imladris without a thought more than that its Lord was quite possibly dying.  
  
Though far from dying, the Lord of Imladris was currently flat on his back in bed, where Arwen and Estel were holding him hostage, feeling most unwell and trying not to show it. He had already thrown up once; he certainly didn't intend to do so again. Glorfindel kept trudging in with large sad blue eyes and Erestor had bounded about for a whole hour with water and teas and blankets and pillows. It had taken all Estel's persuasiveness and Arwen's sweetness to persuade the both of them to leave, for which Elrond was so grateful he'd let the two younger ones stay.  
  
All three were currently quiet.  
  
"Ada, are you still awake?" Arwen's voice.  
  
"Yes, Arwen, I am awake. And no, I am not feeling any worse than I was five minutes ago."  
  
Estel compressed his lips and thought about the unhappy and rather far- fetched notion in his head concerning his foster father's ill-health. His dearly oblivious Arwen would likely go hysterical once Elrond told her. As for Elladan and Elrohir! Well, Estel could only hope Elrond wasn't feeling particularly emotional when the time came.  
  
The sounds of pounding steps sounded loud in the peace of the Last Homely House and then the door to the outer chamber was flung open with enough force to almost rend it from its hinges.  
  
Elrond sat up quickly, almost falling again as the quick movement did nothing to help his nausea. Elladan and Elrohir throwing themselves at his disoriented head made things worse. Utilizing all the strength that had got him his legendary status, he pushed his sons from him and reached hurriedly for the basin at the side of the bed.  
  
Elladan grabbed his father before Elrond tumbled to the floor in his haste and Elrohir stood back with a grimace and a wrinkled nose. Glorfindel and Erestor charged in and instantly questioned Arwen at great length as to why their Lord was currently retching desperately for the second time that morning. Estel contented himself with holding Elrond's hair away from his face and stroking his back.  
  
It was quite some time before order was restored, but once Glorfindel had managed it, Elrond insisted on getting out of bed. His knees felt weak, but he was a warrior! What was more, morning sickness had never dropped him before and no matter how bad it was this time, it would not do so now. Elrond Half-Elven meant to make sure of that. Going back to his washroom to freshen up and change into something more suitable to less private areas of his house, he left explicit instructions that everyone congregate in the library and await him there.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir used the short walk to question everyone as to what was going on. All of them shrugged except Estel, who melted into the background and said not a word.  
  
"Are you all here?" Elrond asked, when he finally stumbled his way into the library. He had had to stop on his way there. "Good. Now, I know you all worry for my health. You need not do so. I know what is wrong with me and I am treating it."  
  
He sank into a chair with a grateful sigh and accepted the cup of tea Erestor pressed into his hand. At least it would help settle his stomach even if it did taste disgusting. He let his eyes linger longingly on the windows. Sunshine, he thought dully, maybe I should take a walk this afternoon when the sickness lifts a little.  
  
"Ada?" Elrohir- impatient as usual. "Ada, is that all?"  
  
"Should there be more?" Elrond asked gently, putting his cup down.  
  
"Well, yes! What exactly is it that's wrong with you? Why were you so violently unwell when we saw you in your room just now? And Arwen said you fainted when walking slowly in the corridor two days ago. Is it a poison?"  
  
Elrond managed a soft laugh at that. Poison? No, it wasn't poison exactly. But then someone had managed to drug him with a fertility potion. Even his own fruitful curse would not have yielded a fourth child without one. He shook his dark head in refute.  
  
"Then what is it?" Elladan asked, losing his patience too for the moment. It had scared him badly to see his father so ill.  
  
Glorfindel looked his own enquiry, knowing well enough that Elrond would speak only when he wanted but needing his friend to know he was concerned. Somehow he felt that the Peredhil was not particularly confident in his own skin right then.  
  
Sunshine and a simple walk, Elrond thought longingly. He took another sip of the tea to steady his nerves and nodded decisively. "If you must know, I am with child."  
  
Four pairs of eyes turned to look disbelievingly at the seemingly unconcerned Elf Lord. Estel had guessed it was something of the sort. Living amongst the Rangers for a time had given him a lot of insight into such things. One of the women he'd rescued from Orcs was heavily pregnant and she had told him all about the pregnancy on their long trip back to safety. Elrond was exhibiting the same signs.  
  
Erestor, on the other hand, had been there for his Lord's other pregnancies. He hadn't dreamed there would be another child this late in Elrond's life, but it definitely explained the symptoms.  
  
"Has no one anything to say?" Elrond looked up and asked, betraying his apprehension.  
  
Elladan did have a question, but as his tongue was cleaving to the roof of his mouth at the time, he felt in no position to answer it. Elrohir, though, had no such problems- "Whose is it?"  
  
Elrond shook his head. "I cannot tell you that. Anyway it is of no consequence and the person will never know."  
  
"Ada, everyone will know... especially when you start- start showing! How is this even possible? You're a male! Or am I mistaken there too?"  
  
"Elrohir," Glorfindel rebuked sharply, "Do not speak to your father that way; you have not the right." Sufficiently cowing the younger elf with his best tutor's glare, he turned to his old friend and tried not to judge. "But he does have a point, my Lord. How is such a thing possible?"  
  
"I have a gift," Elrond answered bitterly, "Or a curse if you wish to call it that. I do not know how it came to be, but sometimes some male elves do have the ability to carry children."  
  
"But are you sure?" Arwen broke in, looking, as Estel had expected, fairly close to strong hysterics.  
  
"The signs are there. I have morning sickness certainly, as you have all seen. And I can feel the life stirring in my body. I did the test two weeks ago and it was confirmed; I am pregnant."  
  
Elladan's mouth finally decided to unstick. "But you can't be! It's impossible! And even if it is possible for you to conceive, how will the baby be birthed?"  
  
Erestor fielded that question after a look at Elrond's drawn face. No, this was not an easy discussion for the Elf Lord. Particularly since Elrond had never viewed the ability as anything but a curse. His shame had deepened when Celebrian had been proven unable to carry a child to term. "Well, the child itself is protected inside a womb that grows with the conception. When the time comes for its delivery, we will have to cut it out."  
  
The twins looked at each other, looked at the pleas in their parent's eyes and decided it was all too much to take it. "We- we need to think a bit, Ada," Elladan murmured, "Excuse us. I'm happy, but... I mean, it's just so... we'll be back before sunset."  
  
Elrond bit his lip in uncharacteristic dismay as his sons rushed from the room, almost falling out the door in their haste. Erestor quietly ushered the rest of them out, though when Estel demurely asked to stay, the steward allowed it. The three sat in the silence of the large room and said nothing until Elrond broke out of his trance.  
  
"How could this happen, my Lord?" Erestor asked softly.  
  
The Lord of Imladris looked warily to Estel, expecting to be rejected by him as well. After all, his own children had done so. But the man walked to his side and dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder. There were no words, but the touch was enough to ease the doubts for the moment.  
  
"I had one night," Elrond said painfully, "This is the consequence."  
  
"But it has been at least two thousand years since Arwen and you have had lovers at varying times throughout that period. You did not conceive then. Why now? Are you not a little old to be conceiving?"  
  
"I am," Elrond ground out, leaning forward so that his dark hair hid his humiliated blush, "Elves of my age do not usually conceive at this time of their life, male or otherwise. I think someone sabotaged my body. I- I had drunk a cup of wine left in my room, thinking it was placed there by my night's partner. I thought it tasted odd and when the signs starting to show almost immediately in the weeks following, I noticed a bottle of fertility potion was missing from the stock room. There was no reason an elf could not have simply asked me for the mixture, so I can only assume it was stolen, and intended for myself."  
  
"How far along are you?" Estel asked, still gently massaging Elrond's shoulder.  
  
"Two months," the elf answered absently, "Oh, Elbereth, what will I do? I cannot have this child! My own family will hate me for it and how will I explain it to everyone? At least Celebrian was there for the others, so we simply confined ourselves in Lothlorien until the delivery."  
  
"Others?"  
  
"My children truly are my children, Estel. I bore Elladan and Elrohir, as I did Arwen. Celebrian was not able to carry children without suffering a miscarriage and she bitterly resented me for that. What was worse, I believe that to be the reason she was willing to leave her family for the Undying Lands. I will not have this innocent grow up to loneliness and misunderstanding, an outcast amongst her own people. I cannot! I should abort it, but the Valar help me, I cannot swallow the poison!"  
  
Elrond bowed his head and tried very hard to keep the tears back but he was truly confused and upset, his mind and body in turmoil and self-loathing in every tone of his voice. Estel held him, soothing his foster father with soft words and softer hands, trying to offer what futile comfort he had for a position he could not possibly hope to empathize with fully. 


	3. 3

Author's Note: I know everyone wants to know who the Other Father is, but I might just be mean and never mention his name. Look for clues, however; you should find it out pretty soon.

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The Lord of Imladris woke up the next day in a decidedly bad humour.  
  
His stomach was lurching, his head was spinning, his eyes hurt and he was getting the almost irresistible urge to grab the nearest sword and skewer someone with it. Besides, he was late waking up and from the look of the sun it was halfway through the morning.  
  
He dressed as quickly as he could, taking a few seconds out of his hurry to critically stare at his reflection in the mirror. He was somewhat appeased by the fact that his hair seemed to have added bounce and shine. Though not vain by any stretch of the imagination, it gave him a beacon of hope for the coming months. Until he remembered that he was going to get so round and swollen that no one would be able to lift their eyes above his waistline.  
  
And with that mournful thought, he decided that enough was enough and he refused to flap around anymore like a Mordor bat in the formal robes he usually wore, preferring to take what little consolation in his fitness he could while it was still possible. He was still a warrior- even if he was pregnant- and if anyone had anything to say about his condition then they could say it to his face and very likely to his fist! It ended with him stalking out of his room in tunic and trews, his face set in decidedly grim lines. He left his hair unbound except for the braids on either side, throwing the clips he usually wore out of the window in a fit of pique.  
  
Erestor and Glorfindel were in his office, having a discussion in a low tone of voice. They stopped as he entered and looked guilty.  
  
"Why was I not woken?" Elrond snapped, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
Glorfindel looked to Erestor, who quickly put his diplomacy into overdrive. "I thought you might appreciate the rest, my Lord," the Steward soothed, "I did come to wake you but your eyes were closed. I thought you might have had a restless night."  
  
"It seems to me that you think entirely too much," Elrond mocked, "You are not here to second-guess me, Erestor. The next time might cost you your position in my household."  
  
Glorfindel gasped at such an insult.  
  
Grey eyes fixed intently on the blond. Balrog Slayer or not, Glorfindel was aware of a sliver of ice gliding down his spine.  
  
"You have something to say to me, mellon nin?"  
  
Glorfindel shook his head.  
  
"You disapprove of my words, perhaps?"  
  
"No, my Lord," Glorfindel answered meekly, obedient to the quick shake of the head that Erestor gave him.  
  
"So I would imagine," Elrond commented. Never taking the dangerous look out of his eyes, he sat down at his desk and began to sort through the scrolls and messages laid thereon. Glancing back to his friends, he waved to the door- "You are dismissed. Come back in an hour."  
  
Erestor let out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them. Glorfindel was still a little wide-eyed in surprise and shock. To his knowledge, Elrond just never spoke to anyone in that supercilious way, no matter how bad his mood or trying the situation.  
  
The Steward patted the shoulder of the Seneschal, empathizing with him. "It can be quite frightening the first time," he admitted, "But when you have been thrown out of the house in three successive weeks and banished about four times, you do learn how to deal with it."  
  
Glorfindel choked, pointing a trembling finger to the closed door. "You- you mean this is normal?"  
  
"It's the pregnancy," Erestor shrugged, "Mood swings are common to both female and male elves during their terms. Elrond has suffered from them rather violently in the past."  
  
Both shook their heads, thinking of how pregnancies took a whole year and what were they to do ten months along? Legolas found them still standing there and contemplating the fate of Imladris as he walked towards the study.  
  
The Mirkwood Prince was fast getting the feeling that something was wrong. For not only were Erestor and Glorfindel standing in corridors and looking gloomy, but Elladan and Elrohir had gone out riding again and Aragorn and Arwen were sitting in corners talking in low voices. While that did not seem outwardly suspicious, Elladan and Elrohir would say nothing about their father beyond that they hadn't had the chance to tell him of Legolas' presence, and Arwen and Aragorn would stop talking and go away the moment he approached them.  
  
Legolas was finding it rather frustrating to be avoided like a deadly illness. "Is something wrong?" he asked politely.  
  
"No, no! Nothing at all," Glorfindel assured him hurriedly, "What could possibly go wrong on such a day as this? Tell me, Legolas, have you seen our woods during spring?"  
  
Blue eyes looked puzzled. "I've lived here for ten years during my educating, Glorfindel. Of course I've seen Imladris during spring."  
  
"What he meant was, would you like to reacquaint yourself with the sights of Imladris," Erestor recovered smoothly, sticking an accidental but very sharp elbow into his friend's ribs, "You have not been here for centuries, Legolas. Glorfindel is free and can take you riding."  
  
Legolas was now definite that something was wrong. But as he was even then being hurried to the stables by an agitated Balrog Slayer, he gave up his desire to question anything and simply let it happen.  
  
Erestor sighed and went back to the office. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and looked in. His Lord currently seemed to be sitting still in his seat and staring out the window, a hand resting lightly on his stomach. The other hand was playing with the stopper of a bottle on his desk, the oily-looking liquid tilting lazily as the bottle scraped over the desktop.  
  
"My Lord?"  
  
"One hour isn't up yet." But the remark sounded completely at odds with the unpredictability of before.  
  
Erestor walked two steps into the room and shut the door. To his trained eyes, the pregnancy was beginning to show a little in the soft glow emanating from the elf sitting in the sunshine. At times like these, the steward was reminded of that first pregnancy, when Elrond had been lost in the wonder of it all. Only this time, the bottle was intruding.  
  
"Is that the potion to abort it?" Erestor asked quietly.  
  
The dark head moved a little, a nod barely discernible in the slow action. Long fingers tightened on the bottle; whether to hold it closer or to throw it away was yet to be decided.  
  
"Will you take it? Is not the time passed?"  
  
Again a small movement of the head, this time a shake instead of a nod. Elrond didn't have to say that it was still close enough to the safe time to risk it. He didn't even intend to say anything; right then, he didn't think he could.  
  
"Elrond, mellon nin? Are you alright?"  
  
"I am about to reject this child," the Elf Lord answered, "It is going to hurt and I do not think I can stand that."  
  
Erestor looked surprised. A warrior of the First Age afraid of a little pain? He said as much, trying not to sound judgemental but failing miserably.  
  
Elrond turned and glared his disapproval of such questioning. "I did not mean physically," he bit out, "You have no thought of how this feels, do you? To be... this way! To feel... these things inside you. You cannot hope to understand what it is I go through."  
  
"My Lord, if you were to tell me..."  
  
"I go through hell," Elrond cried, bounding from his seat and beginning to stalk up and down in his nervousness, "Every moment that passes the child inside me grows. You cannot know what that means."  
  
Silence grew. Erestor went to the table near the door, absently sorting through the list of things he had placed there in order to remember what needed to be done. Most were mundane jobs and could be done by himself or the twins in their father's stead. The rest... oh, but the rest needed the express touch of the Lord of Rivendell. The Lord who was currently cringing at the thought of killing the innocent growing peaceably within his body through no fault of his own.  
  
"Will you abort then?"  
  
The silence continued as Elrond paused in his pacing to stare searchingly at his old friend. "You would not council me otherwise?"  
  
"It is not my child," the other pointed out reasonably.  
  
Elrond was forced to smile at the dry honesty. Only Erestor, he remembered. "That is true. There is no time in this world for birthing and for babies. I will drink the poison." His eyes lit on the innocuous bottle on the table and he shuddered visibly. "But perhaps... tomorrow?"  
  
Grey eyes looked so pathetically hopeful that Erestor was forced to keep back a chuckle, feeling like an indulgent father for some ridiculous reason. The steward nodded gravely and gestured to the door. "That will allow me to sort through some things with you, my Lord, if you are available this morning. Tomorrow I imagine you will feel unable to leave your bed."  
  
"Of course, Erestor," Elrond murmured, wry humour glimmering through as his seething emotions settled amicably enough behind his typical demeanour. "What is on the agenda for today?"  
  
"The new stores, my Lord. The plans need to be looked over; the builders have one or two small questions that I thought it best you answer. And then, the..."  
  
The door closed behind them, effectively muffling their voices as the two went back to business, the personal troubles of the household banished temporarily behind a façade of normalcy in lieu of the work that needed to be completed.


	4. 4

Author's Note: People's prayers have been answered. The father is even now in this chapter!

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The next morning was covered in a fine, misty glaze and it seemed particularly fitting to Elrond to wake up to such a grey day. The day had finally come, and if he admitted, so had the hour- he was going to swallow the poison and end his troubles.  
  
Except that it was the first morning without sickness!  
  
"Traitor," he glowered down to his unformed child, well aware that anyone watching him would have doubts for his sanity. "You deliberately planned this, did you not?"  
  
The child, of course, had no reply for him.  
  
Elrond forgot his troubles as the peace of the pre-dawn coolness took his senses far away. At times like this it was his wont to pity Celebrian for losing all interest in Arda for the never-ending perfection of Valinor. It seemed very insulting to the land that had harboured their kind for so long and while it had its low points, Elrond was quite content to walk Middle Earth.  
  
He went in to breakfast amidst raised eyebrows. Erestor had been instructed to tell his immediate family the reason why he would not attend the meal and here he was, sitting down with a fairly hearty appetite and no sign of sickness or pain. The fact that he was avoiding everyone's eyes said enough for his indecisiveness.  
  
"You did not do it, did you, Ada?" Elladan asked bluntly.  
  
Elrond looked up, flushed just a little and shook his head, sipping at tea that was suddenly too hot for his tongue. He was hungry, but the unbroken attention was making him self-conscious. He felt the little prickles of cold that ran up his spine as he thought of how rash he was being.  
  
"Ada, will you or will you not take the potion?" Elrohir asked softly.  
  
Glorfindel and Aragorn shot the younger twin a warning look but Elrond himself did not respond. Merely he began to eat, as if it were any other day and nothing was the matter. But the tremble in his hands gave him away to his daughter, who touched his shoulder. He looked at her with a surprised glance and she smiled and nodded.  
  
"How did you sleep, Ada?" she asked simply.  
  
Elrond debated the question, sifting suspiciously through it in search of hidden sarcasm. There was none. "Very well, when I finally slept," he admitted.  
  
"That is good. You worked too long into the night yesterday," Arwen said.  
  
The words were light, loving and completely unconcerned with pregnancies. Erestor cleared his throat and took up Arwen's example. And for a time peace reigned. Those, like Elladan and Elrohir, who could not bring themselves to put aside their doubts kept silent, and those who did talked of anything and everything just like they always did. And sentence by sentence Glorfindel noticed that Elrond relaxed just a little more.  
  
By the time the group was laughing over a ridiculous story of a missing saddlebag, Elrond was positively happy. The blond elf was a little taken aback at the sudden smile he received for his part in the conversation. The Lord of Imladris was not usually this responsive or open about anything, even with his family. Yet there he was laughing and talking as if it was the best day on Arda.  
  
"My Lord, why do you not take the day off," he suggested impulsively.  
  
Grey eyes turned to him in astonished enquiry. As did every other pair of eyes at the table.  
  
"It is a good day to relax," he explained awkwardly, "And though I am loath to bring it up, you have been under a high level of stress lately."  
  
The silence was deafening as he eluded to the one topic they had tacitly agreed not to bring up. Elrond himself blushed and bent his head, his braids swinging forward into his eyes. Or they did, until the Balrog Slayer sighed and groaned in a rather comical manner.  
  
"That is not what I meant! You have been so pressured lately that it is a wonder you can still remember what the sunshine looks like! Go out; enjoy a ride through the woods or a walk in the gardens; replenish your herb supply or climb a tree; take a swim; talk to nature- just go do something does not involve a pen and parchment! Is that too much for a friend to suggest?"  
  
Elrond blinked and shook his head. Glorfindel was actually looking upset. "But there's work," he ventured.  
  
It was quite the wrong thing to say- "There's always work! And it isn't going to get any less whether you do it today or do it tomorrow."  
  
Under Glorfindel's stern eye, Elrond let out a 'meep' and agreed. Besides, he reminded himself, he needed to go take the potion. His spirits sank immediately and he pushed away his food. He did not want the child, but he did not want to kill it either. Unfortunately he had an obligation to the other elves around- and outside of his lands- and he needed to concentrate on the troubles at hand. All his life had been immersed in duty and war, and he could not afford to simply think of himself now. He muttered his leave-taking and made for the door, intent on completing the task he had set for himself.  
  
Glorfindel frowned slightly at the sight, wondering what was in his old friend's head to make him behave as such. Elladan and Elrohir were equally as confused, though Arwen was astute enough to glare at Glorfindel for ruining her Ada's mood so securely.  
  
Erestor's voice was almost an interruption- "He goes to take the poison."  
  
"What!" Glorfindel was out of his seat and striding for the door before the others had even blinked, his blue eyes flashing fire and brimstone.  
  
"You don't think it possible?" Arwen asked delicately, "Ada isn't carrying Glorfindel's child, is he?"  
  
Elladan swallowed thickly at the very thought, but Aragorn and Elrohir shared a quiet snigger behind their hands. "I don't think so," Aragorn remarked, "Glorfindel doesn't, uh, like males." Neither would answer how they knew, and Arwen and Elladan made a tacit agreement between them to corner the secretive twosome alone somewhere and wrest it out of them by force if need be.  
  
Meanwhile, Glorfindel was having an agitated discussion with the Lord he had sworn allegiance to. At that moment however, he just felt like swearing. "Elrond, why need you abort the child?"  
  
"It's... I just cannot have the child! Glorfindel, I have a duty to others around me and having this child will interfere with them."  
  
Glorfindel shook his head in dazed wonder- "You still think of it as a curse, do you not? But it is not! It is a miracle sent by the Valar!"  
  
Children were a blessing to the elves, seeing as how most couples would only beget two even in their eternal lifetime together. Twins were an even rarer sight. And for Elrond of all people to have not only borne twins but also four children in total, would be absolutely miraculous indeed! Only, Glorfindel was willing to bet good money that the Peredhel did not see it that way.  
  
"Be that as it may, it has come at exactly the wrong time."  
  
Elrond was determined, his face paled and drawn but set in decisive lines. Glorfindel knew that look; his Lord's stubbornness was known to everyone who knew the half-elf. But he also knew what Erestor had told him. And Erestor had told him of how Celebrien had carefully selected the male who would lie with her husband, hating herself and him for having to do so, had told him how the family had sunk into misery when she lost her second child in the space of fifty years and of the soldier who was the real other parent of both the twins and Arwen. And his heart had bled for the carefully hidden shame that Elrond had carried inside himself for the six millennia he had never told the truth.  
  
"You cannot kill the child simply because it is inconvenient," Glorfindel argued.  
  
"I can and will because she is my child and I am her father and this cannot be," Elrond cried, in enough pain as it was because something seemed to be wrong. He was beginning to feel slight twinges of pain in his abdomen, flickering slowly like feather-light touches. Indeed, he didn't even know if it was pain or something else; but instinctively he did not like it and it scared him.  
  
Legolas had woken late, having been deliberately tired out by Glorfindel the day before with a bout of swordplay that had degenerated into a virtual battle of wills. His shoulders ached and the muscles of his legs were sore; it had taken all his lithe quickness to avoid being beaten too easily.  
  
He hurried to the dining hall, fastening the last braid into his hair with the aid of a simple gold clip when he was confronted by the sight of the two most revered elves in Imladris arguing and shouting at each other. His mouth agape, he stared as the blond seneschal gripped a fistful of the half- elf's robe in his hand and hefted, watched in wonder as Elrond's slender fingers fastened around that wrist with enough force to crush the bone.  
  
"Stop! My Lords, what is going on here?"  
  
Elrond and Glorfindel let go of each other so fast that the dark-haired elf stumbled backwards into a pillar. But something was definitely wrong by now. Elrond shrank back against the wall and then hunched over with a cry as a sharp shooting pain swept through him like a poison-tipped arrow. Falling to the ground, he cried out for Glorfindel, who instantly scooped him up and asked frantically what was the matter.  
  
"Get Elladan," Elrond gasped. Of the two sons, his eldest was the most gifted healer. And as none of the other healers in Imladris knew of his condition, he did not want to cause a scandal by involving them.  
  
Glorfindel nodded tersely and bade Legolas stay with him.  
  
Elrond tried to protest but another wave of pain hit through him and his vision swam with black spots. By the time they had cleared, Glorfindel was gone. And he was left alone with one of the last elves on Arda that he had ever wanted to see.  
  
"What are you doing here," he whispered, one hand pressed tight to his abdomen, expertly applying the exact amount of pressure, "You were meant... Ai Elbereth! Oh Valar, this is too much!"  
  
"What is wrong? Are you ill? Is there naught I can do?" Legolas was obviously upset and beside himself, smoothing a hand over the disarrayed dark hair and a heated cheek that flinched away as if he had struck it.  
  
Elrond wanted to laugh. Naught the young one could do? Oh, but hadn't Legolas done enough? For there, before him, sat the father of his unborn child! And his last thought as darkness overwhelmed him was that he was trapped in some kind of nightmare and the Valar had better be enjoying the farce they had turned his life into.


	5. 5

Glorfindel had not dared to run in the more public areas of the house. Elrond would not forgive him if he attracted attention to his illness. But it took every ounce of willpower that the elf possessed to walk as fast as he dared to the table and beckon Elladan and Elrohir out to the hallways. As if on cue, everyone stood and followed the three.  
  
"Your father is ill," Glorfindel whispered.  
  
Elladan tried to run but Glorfindel grasped his arm and held it tight- "Do not be so foolish! He will not thank us to cause a panic amongst the servants. He is embarrassed enough with his condition to have it generally known."  
  
The group walked as quickly as was possible to the entrance to the corridor in the family wing where Elrond was apparently left. Arwen gasped as she spied the unconscious figure of her father, unpleasant reminders of her mother running through her head. Elladan and Elrohir were met halfway by Legolas who was so shocked he could barely talk through his stammer.  
  
"H-he f-f-f-fainted," the blond stuttered, "I- I tried to rouse him, b-but it-it d-didn't seem to be any use!"  
  
Glorfindel picked Elrond up, not trusting anyone else with the limp body of his Lord and Elrohir ran down to the Healing Rooms to get as much equipment as he could without arousing anyone's suspicions. Elladan went ahead to his father's private study; or more precisely to the room next to his private study that Elrond kept for healing emergencies. As it contained an even bigger variety of healing ingredients and prepared potions and pastes, he did not send Elrohir to get any more.  
  
It was no more than a minute later that Elrond was laid down on the couch in the little room. Aragorn appointed himself chief consoler and kept both Arwen and Legolas- who for some strange reason was very upset- out of the way in the study next door. He feared Legolas himself would fall ill as the elf paled at the sight of the set of operating knives Elrohir carried in one hand.  
  
"What is wrong with him?" Legolas demanded, his mind whirling at the sickness. Elves never got sick! Maybe it was a condition peculiar to half- elves? Drat the elf, his mind muttered bitterly, had I known I would not have... have what? He wasn't in love, surely; he was too young!  
  
"Ada's ill," Arwen murmured distractedly, pacing about the room very much like her father did when he was worrying, "Aragorn, what if he dies?"  
  
The man wrapped a comforting arm around her and shushed her. "He will not die. Elladan and Elrohir are skilled, and Glorfindel has assisted Lord Elrond in many such endeavours. They will keep him safe."  
  
He didn't need to say that many females already died during childbirth or during miscarriages when the bleeding wouldn't stop. Arwen already knew that. She buried her head against the soothing smell of Aragorn's shirt and let a few tears roll down.  
  
Legolas wanted very badly to be comforted as well. But the one person's presence he craved the most was inside being cut open with a knife that looked capable of gutting a horse! Suppressing a groan of despair he curled into Elrond's chair and breathed in the familiar smell of parchment and trees that always seemed to haunt the half-elf, lost in remembrance of their few stolen nights together. He did not notice Aragorn's blue eyes slit with thought as the man watched his elven friend behave in a thoroughly love-lorn way.  
  
Inside the room- though very far from being gutted- Elrond was barely coming to under the watchful eyes of his sons and seneschal. He raised a hand to his head and blinked dazedly at the muted blue ceiling that met his eyes. There was only one room like that in the whole house- the small room beside his study. What was he doing there?  
  
"Elladan?" he called. He sat up and remembered as a pounding headache made its presence felt.  
  
Elrohir silently dipped a soft cloth into cool water and handed it to his father. Elrond took it with a piteous moan of thanks and held it to his eyes. Hands pushed him back down to the couch and then one pair pushed his under-tunic out of the way and began to examine him.  
  
"My Lord, I am sorry," Glorfindel whispered, leaning across to touch his hand.  
  
"For what?" Elrond asked thickly, lifting the cloth off one eye to look at him.  
  
"For upsetting you," Glorfindel seemed almost to be cringing, "For- for almost hitting you in your condition. I should not have done so; I am so very sorry. Saes, mellon nin, forgive me!"  
  
"Glorfindel, you donkey, you did nothing!" Oh, but how his head pounded! He replaced the cloth hurriedly and continued his reassurances without sight. "I was feeling the pain before that. And it was not a reaction to anything you said or did. I think this will be a difficult pregnancy, though. The signs are not very good if I have fainted twice in two months and there is pain."  
  
Elladan chimed in- "I can find nothing wrong with you, Ada. The child seems fine. There was a little bleeding but it has stopped. I, uh, do not know how to drain the blood, though."  
  
"It will exit as the child went in," Elrond answered carefully, still hiding behind his cloth, "Now, more than ever, I must take that potion. Elrohir, could you bring it in here? I will take it now."  
  
"Where is it?" Elrohir asked, feeling the temperature in the room rise as Glorfindel began to glower.  
  
"In the second drawer of my desk," Elrond supplied, "A small glass bottle with a leaf-shaped stopper. The liquid is clear and looks like fine oil."  
  
"Elrond, have you thought of how the father might feel?" Glorfindel asked carefully. He knew he shouldn't get involved; it was not his business what Elrond did in his private life. But this was a child and Glorfindel had a soft spot for children, just as he knew Elrond too did. Though in Elrond's case, it was more intense.  
  
Elrond ripped the cloth off his eyes and sat up in shock as a thought occurred to him- "Legolas is still in Imladris, is he not?" he hissed. Elladan nodded. "Why?"  
  
"He joined us on patrol and we would not let him travel back to Mirkwood alone when the messenger came to tell us of your illness," Elladan answered.  
  
"I have the poison," Elrohir called.  
  
Elrond snatched it convulsively and then stared helplessly from Glorfindel to the bottle and back again. It would be so easy to drink it down in the presence of witnesses. And his body would return to normal after a week, with no one the wiser. Even Legolas could be sent back home and told it was merely a rare form of sickness made worse by work and exhaustion.  
  
Sighing, Elrond put the vial aside and got to his feet. Elladan handed him something to take to ease his headache and that was the end. He asked that Legolas and Arwen be taken out of his study so that he could go and rest, and that Legolas be brought to his study on the morrow for an explanation. The three other elves nodded and left him to gather himself into a charade of his old serenity.  
  
And on the morrow, the practise of doing so came in very handy:  
  
"Legolas, I called you in because..." Elrond stopped and licked his lips nervously. This was quite the worst thing he'd ever had to do and frankly he wished the other elf in Mordor for all the affection he bore him at this point. But seeing as how Legolas was wide-eyed and patently unaware of the grudge borne against him, Elrond could only sigh and get on with it.  
  
"I'm pregnant," he said tiredly.  
  
Legolas blinked and twitched. Automatically his eyes travelled down to the other elf's stomach as if morbidly terrified of seeing a sudden bulge beneath the robes. But he discarded the words a moment later when he saw Elrond's body was as fit and non-pregnant as always.  
  
"It's your child."  
  
Legolas rose slowly from his chair and backed toward the door. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the Elf Lord still sitting calmly in his chair, hands folded neatly in his lap as if he wasn't spouting the most insane rubbish the younger male had ever heard. A hand reached back and as soon as it touched the doorknob, Legolas was gone, sprinting down the corridor as if the hounds of hell were after him.  
  
Glorfindel watched the blurry shape race past with a wondering look on his face. He'd always know Legolas was a fast runner- indeed the muscles of his legs and his slender body proclaimed it- but he'd not known he was that fast! And why so terrified?  
  
Aragorn shook his head as he stood by the blond's side and watched too. Glorfindel turned to look enquiringly at him as Aragorn began to make for the direction Legolas had headed in, a long-suffering look of concern on his face. "It's a long story," the man called back, "But I think Elrond just told him."  
  
Light dawned and the Balrog Slayer nodded, returning to his work with his mind at peace. Well, if it was only shock at finding the Lord of Imladris with child, he concluded, that was quite all right. 


	6. 6

"But how is it even possible," Legolas demanded, "There is no way that El- I mean, Lord Elrond- could be with child! He is male!"  
  
Aragorn shrugged and decided not to do it again. Staring up into the boughs of majestic old oaks was guaranteed to give a man a crick in the neck; shrugging only made things worse. "He says that some male elves do have the ability and it is not unheard of. It seems rare, however, from all I have read."  
  
Legolas hid his face in a clump of foliage. "He must be insane. Or maybe I am. Or maybe all of us are and we're only imaging it," the Sylvan elf muttered darkly, "Maybe it is something in the wine."  
  
Aragorn pricked up his ears at that. Elrond had mentioned his wine was drugged with a fertility potion on the night that he- no, he refused to imagine it- slept with someone else who he was beginning to think was Legolas. "Mellon nin, will you please come down from there?"  
  
"Why must I come down? You can come up!"  
  
"And now you sound like a young child," the mortal rebuked, "No one would imagine you were an elf a thousand years into his majority if they saw and heard you now."  
  
Legolas growled the equivalent instructions in the Common Tongue for Aragorn to try to procreate with himself. Though not normally given to foul language, the Mirkwood Prince had spent enough time with soldiers and captured orcs to know a few pungent phrases. But eventually, after a few minutes of relieving his frustrations, he leapt down as gracefully as he had leapt up, landing on his feet with cat-like precision.  
  
Aragorn hid a grin and wrapped a comforting arm around his friend's shoulders. Taking him to a private corner of Elrond's personal gardens, he sat him down on the grass and simply looked at him. Legolas was a private person by nature, even with his friends, but when he was upset he would seize the first opportunity to seek advice.  
  
"He said he was pregnant," the elf sighed, "I do not understand. Is he speaking the truth or does he lie? How is such a thing possible?"  
  
"He is not lying," Aragorn supplied quietly, "And I have read as much as his library contains on the subject. Certain male elves do have the 'Gift of the Valar' as it used to be called. It was more common during the First Age when war was rife and children were needed to carry on the family line. But it eventually died out, and only certain males still have it. Lord Elrond seems to be one of them."  
  
"How has he not known all this time?"  
  
Aragorn debated the wisdom of revealing things he had no right to tell of. Making up his mind, he took Legolas' hand and led him back to the study. They passed Glorfindel again on the way and stopped for a minute as the seneschal said a sympathetic word of understanding to the shell-shocked younger elf.  
  
"Come," Aragorn encouraged, tugging harder as they neared the door. "Legolas, asking me questions will not help! You must speak to him."  
  
"But I really do not want to," Legolas pleaded desperately, "He said it was mine."  
  
"And do you doubt him?"  
  
"It cannot be! I do not impregnate male elves!"  
  
"Did you not take him? I know you mysteriously disappeared on a few nights two months ago when you visited unexpectedly. I know Lord Elrond was acting strangely during that time. And I know you were very worried yesterday when he was ill."  
  
"It was only once," Legolas babbled, "I only asked because I wanted to know what it would be like! But touching heaven does not result in my lover carrying my child! It should not! Oh Valar, I... Elrond, melethron, what have I done to you?"  
  
Elrond looked down in consternation at the figure kneeling before him, Legolas' face buried in his lap and tears soaking freely into his robes. Looking up, Aragorn only smiled and excused himself.  
  
"I am sorry, melme. Forgive me, I did not know! I never imagined! It's all my fault, Elrond, but do not hate me for it."  
  
"Legolas, I do not hate you at all," Elrond murmured, at a loss but tentatively stroking the fair head in his lap, "And I really have no idea why you think I will."  
  
Tear-clouded blue eyes glanced up at him before looking away again. "Because I, um... did what I did?"  
  
"You refer to my condition?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Elrond sighed and took the fair face in his hands. He shook his head, privately regretted the action, and looked stern. "I am pregnant, Legolas. The child is yours. There is no need for secrecy between us."  
  
The younger elf nodded and bit his lip. It wasn't that he was a coward, per say, or even that he disliked the idea of children. But to father a child with another male was simply embarrassing; that he had done so with an Elf Lord as revered as Lord Elrond was shocking. And the thought of the coming months made things harder.  
  
"Aragorn knows, and Glorfindel," he counted slowly, "And by that I think Arwen and Erestor are also aware of it. Do Elladan and Elrohir know of the problem?"  
  
Elrond paled at the artless choice of words but accepted it meekly. "Yes. No one else, however; and I would prefer it that way. Indeed, I have not aborted the child yet because you deserved to know first."  
  
"Abort?" Why did Legolas feel that he did not like that word?  
  
"There is a certain poison I can swallow that will bring about a miscarriage," the Elder explained, his hand unconsciously tightening on a handful of golden hair, "I will be unwell for a week but there are others who can continue with my duties until I may once more leave my bed."  
  
Oh. That was why. Legolas shook his head in displeasure. "I do not like the idea," he confessed, "It seems... faintly wrong."  
  
"Would you like me to have the child?"  
  
"I would not know what to do with it!"  
  
"Then I suggest we solve the 'problem' my way." Having growled at his lover, decided to take the potion for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two weeks, and felt frustrated with his own moroseness at the feeling of loss in his soul, Elrond abruptly shoved Legolas out of his lap and turned back to his work. "I trust you can find your way out of my study?"  
  
Legolas stared up at the averted face. But the Lord of Imladris would not look at him, choosing instead to glare at an innocent book of herbs before him with a frown as black as a thundercloud. Seconds ticked by in maddening frequency and a stifled laugh finally broke through the heavy air.  
  
Startled, both stared at each other and then Legolas surged to his feet and bounded to the window. Grasping at the shape there, he tossed the helplessly chuckling figure into the centre of the room.  
  
Elrond stared at the dark blue eyes with something that felt like cold dread.  
  
Legolas stared in dumbfound bewilderment.  
  
And the soldier clad in the rainment of a guard of Lothlorien shook his dark head and continued to laugh while his blue eyes misted with tears of mirth and his slender frame shook with the hilarity of the situation he had just witnessed.  
  
"Well," he finally settled on, rising to his feet and confronting the Elf Lord still frozen in his seat, "When I came to see my children, I did not expect to find such a truly marvellous state of affairs, melethron. And to think it is not even my doing this time!" 


	7. 7

Author's Note: For any of you who were wondering, yes the name 'Aurief' is from my Aragorn/Elrond fic ('Grey Haven') but since I was out of elvish sounding names, I settled for robbing myself.   
  
Author's Note2: Thank you to Spirit of Tolkien reviewed the previously posted version of this and corrected my spelling of 'Celebrian'. I should have mentioned that I have only read the books a long time ago and have only watched the movies once. I have no knowledge of 'Silmarillion' or any other of Tolkien's works and know but the barest of facts about Elrond simply because he is my favourite character. If you want precise accuracy in this, you might not get it. However, feel free to correct me anytime. Oh, and I know 'Aurief' means nothing (or else I took a lucky guess and it does) but I can't speak elvish so I go for the next best thing- my imagination.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
"Oh, Elbereth," Elrond gasped, a hand to his stomach as if protecting his child from danger, "Oh Valar, no!"  
  
Dark brows rose over dark blue eyes. "You are not pleased to see me, Elrond? I admit it hurts me to know that."  
  
Legolas instinctively moved to Elrond's side, a hand reaching for the dagger that he knew the Elf Lord kept in a drawer of the desk. If it came down to it, he had another tucked into the waistband of his leggings, beneath his tunic.  
  
The stranger looked to the Mirkwood Prince and smiled. He raised his hands in mock surrender and quirked an eyebrow. "You need fear nothing from me, gwanur."  
  
"If I had a gold piece for every time an enemy has said the same to me I would be a very rich elf," Legolas ground out.  
  
"You are a rich elf, Prince of Mirkwood," his opponent said whimsically.  
  
Legolas groaned inside himself for walking into that verbal trap like a meek lamb. "I do not trust you. State your name and business, and do not move your hands from the air."  
  
"We live in truly dark times if an elf cannot trust another elf. Or is it simply because I am from the Golden Wood? Wood elves were ever suspicious of us if my memory serves me. But I swear to you the only thing I might do is steal your lover. But that is all and I'm sure neither of you will mind. The Lord of Imladris certainly never has."  
  
That did it! "Get out! Leave! Go back to Lothlorien and do not enter my lands ever again," Elrond snarled, shock forgotten at the insolence directed his way.  
  
Legolas barely had time to register the venom in that deep voice before Elrond had picked his sword from the long table at the side, tugged it fluidly from the scabbard and whirled it through the air to stop a hair's breath from the slender throat of the Lothlorien guard.  
  
But the other elf did not seem to notice it. Or else he seemed immured to it. "When I have seen my children," he agreed placidly, "The Lady Galadriel has given me leave for a few months and advised me that this was perhaps a good time to come here."  
  
The sword lowered the barest of inches. "The Lady Galadriel sent you?" Elrond snapped, "And did she also advise you to dispense with formalities and enter through my window?"  
  
A wide smile beamed to both dark-haired half-elf and golden-haired elf prince. "I was watching you work and waiting for the right time to announce my presence when your, uh, young friend came storming into the room. I would have said something but he seemed distraught. Besides, the conversation was so interesting! I must be allowed to offer felicitations."  
  
Without waiting for so much as an answer, the elf gracefully side-stepped the sword's blade and moved to stand far too close to Elrond for Legolas' comfort. The Mirkwood Prince actually let out a warning growl when the warrior's hand reached out to ghost over the front of the Elf Lord's robes covering his abdomen.  
  
"Aurief, drop your hand and stand away from me," Elrond demanded clearly. It had always been this way with them- this feeling of being the prey in some kind of hunting game. Aurief had always been this way. His heart sank in him to know nothing was going to be different.  
  
Aurief complied obediently enough, but the expression on his amused face showing clearly it was to humour his former lover. "As you wish, melethron."  
  
"Do not call him that!"  
  
"Why not? It was once true and our children walk as living testimonials. You, gwanur, have nothing to show for your nights but an unborn child who Elrond plans to kill in the interests of work."  
  
Legolas wanted more than anything to hit that smirking face, to smash the fair features that glowed gently at him with smug satisfaction. But he felt a pang of sympathy for the elves that would be called on to clean up the blood and curled his fists tight against his thighs. Elrond seemed to sense his distress because a hand landed on his shoulder and stayed there.  
  
"There is no longer anything between us, Aurief," Elrond said coldly, "There never was. Celebrian selected you for a purpose and you served it. We were grateful. You gave up all rights to my children a long time ago."  
  
"If you truly believed that, why was I permitted to see them each time I asked?" Aurief's eyes were triumphant, unpleasantly certain in their knowing, "I have seen them grow as children and your wife herself made it a point to tell me of their progress whenever she was in Lothlorien. As for her gratitude, she did not show any as far as I could tell."  
  
Having sent the Elf Lord speechless, Aurief smiled as Legolas turned and pulled the half-elf into a gentle embrace, blue eyes spitting fire as they ordered him to the door with nothing but an impatient glance. He decided that there would be time enough for annoying the Lord of Imladris and his new lover, and left, closing the door softly behind him with a generous hand.  
  
"Remind me not to kill him at the next meal," Elrond murmured weakly.  
  
"Are you sure?" Legolas asked, smoothing dark hair out of pain-filled grey eyes, "Do not be merciful on my account, I beg you."  
  
Elrond laughed and leaned his head back onto the shoulder offered silently for his comfort. There was such simple comfort in this and yet... could he really go through an abortion?  
  
He remembered wistfully how he had first agreed reluctantly to try for a child. The first time he had fallen pregnant, he had been so young and terrified that he had miscarried. He had learned his lesson and no more pregnancies had occurred; until he was married and Celebrian proved unable to carry to term. In fifty years, two miscarriages, and then Galadriel had suggested he try.  
  
He'd been so stunned to hear that the Lady even knew and Celebrian had been so furious and embarrassed that she had forcibly wrenched control of the entire process from him. He had agreed only because she had been so unhappy over the loss of her own children. So she had chosen a friend of her own from Lothlorien- the notorious guard who had propositioned him openly on his own wedding night, who Celebrian was convinced could do no wrong. Galadriel had refused to interfere, though Celeborn had at least spoken words of caution in relation to this chosen elf.  
  
And one night Elrond had forced himself to walk into a bed chamber a long way from the rest of the house, feeling rather like a mare about to be bred. It had not been a good feeling and he had felt much sympathy for his horses from then on. In three months, he had conceived and Celebrian took them both off to Lothlorien, announcing blithely that she was with child and her husband worried for her health. Erestor alone had been told of the true state of affairs and for two weeks Elrond had made sure that neither steward nor wife ran into each other in dark corridors.  
  
"Elrond? Elrond, are you falling asleep on my shoulder?"  
  
The voice broke into his memories and dragged him from their clutch. He shook his head and banished the worries to the back of his mind. "I am sorry. I was a little..." he searched for the word but didn't speak when he could not find one that adequately described his feelings.  
  
"Drained," Legolas said quietly, "I visited the wife of a friend of mine when she was with child and she used that word. It is no wonder you are tired, melme."  
  
Finding himself being pulled slowly to the door, Elrond felt it his duty to protest. However, as he wasn't actually averse to the idea of leaving his study, he made sure it sounded wholly unconvincing. Legolas seemed to take the hint because he didn't let go but tugged harder on his hand.  
  
And emerging into the sunshine felt rather like surfacing into air after being underwater for too long. Legolas smiled mischievously at him and then crept up behind Glorfindel. Since his seneschal was absently stroking the petals of a rose with a careful finger, Elrond bit his lip and watched carefully.  
  
"Boo!"  
  
Glorfindel jumped three feet in the air and came down, crushed rose petals spilling from his convulsively clenched fingers. He turned wide eyes to see a fair laughing face, and over Legolas' shoulder he saw his Lord sit down on the grass and laugh till the tears came.  
  
"You dratted wood elf," he ground out, taking a dangerous step towards the other blond.  
  
"Now, now, Glorfindel," Legolas choked out, stepping back hurriedly and dropping to ELrond's side, "You can't kill the father of your Lord's child!"  
  
Glorfindel gaped and Elrond blushed. "The- the father is... oh. So that was... ARAGORN! That- that human didn't tell me and I could swear he knew! When I get my hands on him, I'll strangle him! I'll drown him in salt water! I'll shake him till his teeth fall out! I'll- I'll do something drastic!"  
  
"Of course, mellon nin," Elrond chortled, "And while you are gone, could you get me some cream? I believe the cravings have begun." 


	8. 8

With the end of the third month, the Lord of Imladris found himself being accompanied by quite an entourage for his weekly examination. For not only had Legolas burst possessively into the room and demanded to finally be allowed to stay during the process, but Arwen had insisted she wait outside and had dragged a sheepish-looking Aragorn along with her. Elladan and Elrohir were in command while a messenger bore a request to Lothlorien for the healer who had assisted in the other births, and Glorfindel had come charging in at the last moment and positioned himself at the door as if terrified that a horde of orcs would attempt to enter the room forcibly.  
  
"Glorfindel, I am not in fear of assassination," Elrond reminded his friend, shedding his robe and fighting away the hands that insisted on trying to help him remove his under tunic as well. "Legolas and Elrohir, I have dressed myself for centuries in time and am quite capable of undressing now!"  
  
The two backed away with dark mutters of tiring himself out but left him alone.  
  
"For the Valar's sake, anyone would imagine I was as weak as a kitten," he exploded.  
  
"You had another argument with Aurief," Legolas argued, "You know that such things always drain you of your strength."  
  
As of on cue, both Elladan and Elrohir's faces darkened as they saw in their minds' eyes the face of the one recently labelled their other parent. A whole week of pleading and orc raids had been needed for them to even accept the fact. Arwen had been the first to break, her soft heart naturally finding pity within her for Glorfindel's recitation of the story of how the other male elf had been involved. She could not believe her mother had been so heartless as to put her father through such a situation. And twice! Simply to punish both him and her for what neither could help!  
  
Elrond was still preaching forgiveness to the masses. It was true that Celebrian had acted with no thought of his feelings, but he couldn't very well blame her. The first time, Gil-Galad himself had almost had a heart-attack when his young herald had trembled before him and told him he carried a child by a lover from a tavern. And the High King had known another male who had the same ability; it should not have been such a shock.  
  
"You seem fine, Ada," Elladan commented, "And there is nothing severely wrong..."  
  
"Severely?" both Elrond and Legolas gasped. Elrond sat up imperiously to see what had troubled his Healer. His oldest son groaned in frustration, placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.  
  
"I am checking, Ada! Don't wriggle around so!"  
  
"But if there is something wrong, I would like to be told immediately!" The Elf Lord sat up again and was just as quickly shoved back down.  
  
"And you will be told immediately... when I have finished examining you and know what in all Arda it is! Glorfindel, Legolas- hold him down if he so much as talks again."  
  
"Elladan!"  
  
"No, Ada; that was Elrohir."  
  
"Fine- Elrohir!"  
  
"I said nothing!"  
  
Elrond sat up and found two pairs of hands slamming him down so hard the back of his head hit the soft of the couch with a 'whump' and proceeded to hold him there. "This is treachery," he blustered, "Oh, my head! Why is it always to my head?"  
  
Legolas leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Be thankful you are so thick headed, mellon nin. It can not possibly break!" They weren't lovers any more, simply bound to each other by the child they had unknowingly created. Or at least, that was the only connection that they acknowledged. Erestor had done for Legolas what he had done for Aurief in the past- put him into an adjoining bedroom- but neither had left for each other's beds at night even when only a door separated them. They had not spoken of more yet. And Legolas felt he could live content with that... for now.  
  
Elrond took the opportunity to glare up at him and struggle a little against the living bonds that still tied him down. He opened his mouth to say something but his attention was caught by a sound from the open window. Sighing, he softly caught Elrohir's attention and nodded to the closed curtains blowing softly with the breeze.  
  
The youngest twin tightened his lips to a white line as if physically swallowing the need for an act of violence and pulled their intruder out from behind the thick cloth.  
  
Neither Legolas nor Glorfindel had yet let go of Elrond's arms and torso and so under the gaze of five pairs of hostile eyes, Aurief grinned and straightened- "I see you still have a taste for submission," he teased.  
  
Both fair elves let go in a hurry.  
  
Aurief had readily discounted Glorfindel as being unworthy of his attention, selecting Legolas as the youngster was more receptive to his dry needling. "Try it with chains, gwanur. He likes those better."  
  
Elrond blushed at the mention of yet another time Aurief had dragged him into a situation he had not wanted to be in. True, it had been an erotic success, but he had not liked the idea of giving any such complete control over him. Why, the 'Lorien elf could have slit his throat and there was nothing the Elf Lord could have done about it.  
  
Elladan said nothing, but pressed down in the spot that had been bothering him before. There was a feel of too much life, and he had been wondering if it were possible for his father to be carrying twins again. But no... it was not the feel of a separate life altogether, just the feel of more life than one little body should have had.  
  
He carefully poked and prodded around the area, trying to figure out if it should be cause for worry or concern. But nothing felt wrong as such; just unusual. He had assisted his father in women's births before- having done his training under his Ada's careful eye- but while he had never found this before, he could not but feel that it was nothing to fear.  
  
"You are fine," Elladan finally decreed, "Elrohir, do you agree?" It was out of habit that they concurred with serious decisions. Elrohir had not the skill, but had far greater instinct for such things.  
  
Elrohir poked and prodded, slightly less expertly as Elrond contemplated the soreness of his skin, and nodded. "The feeling of life is very high for a child just finishing its third month in the womb. But there's nothing wrong."  
  
Elrond clapped a hand to his eyes. "Ai Elbereth, not twins again!"  
  
Glorfindel paled at the thought of the future of Imladris with two more reckless souls growing up in its confines and the twins glared at their father in high dudgeon. Aurief looked to his sons and grinned. He would not have said it out loud except to taunt his past lover, but the dark-haired twins had rather obviously inherited his recklessness. He remembered his own childhood, spent growing up in Lothlorien with Celebrian and a few others their age. He had loved to play pranks on people, delighting in creating mayhem and chaos around him. He still did so, though now only with the use of his tongue and not so much with his hands.  
  
No, he thought smiling to himself, no longer so much though still at times.  
  
"No, Ada," Elrohir corrected, "Not twins..."  
  
Legolas let out a sigh of relief.  
  
"Just a very likely child."  
  
Both parents groaned. Legolas looked down at the still reclining figure of the Lord of Imladris with a dark glare. "It's all your fault," he accused, "I was never a firebrand when I was an elfling."  
  
Glorfindel hastily converted a snort into a cough as dark brows arched disbelievingly. "May I remind you that Imladris was the scene for some of your youthful pranks?" Elrond bit out, "The bedroom in the East Wing still has patches of crimson on its walls and floor from when you and my sons decided to re-paint it! And the old willow tree in the garden is still singed around the trunk because of your decision to light a campfire at midnight! Not to mention I'm certain Erestor has not yet forgiven you for the many pails of water that have tumbled over his head on your visits to this house."  
  
Legolas had the grace to blush but he gave a disdainful sniff and insisted that he had only been influenced to such tricks because of Elladan and Elrohir. In truth, he protested, he had been a quiet child. Glorfindel had laughed outright as he remembered Thranduil's face during a state visit to Mirkwood when the Prince had set loose a large cage of rats in the feasting hall. The creatures had actually been tame and very harmless, but the chaos they had caused had been hilarious.  
  
"Lord Elrond, is everything all right?" Aragorn finally asked, peeping around the door as the sounds of uproarious merriment floated out of the little room. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Aurief gave the cold human an insolent bow of greeting. "I came to lend your young friend the comfort of my experience. I have been through this with Elrond before and know what the expectant father feels like."  
  
The easy humour vanished at the mocking words and Elrond silent dressed again. The light feeling of a hand on the small of his back made him turn with a startled glance and it was a surprising relief to see Legolas' comforting smile. Aurief was beginning to get on everyone's nerves.  
  
In truth, Legolas was privately of the opinion that the twins and Arwen- and even Elrond himself- would have eventually accepted the elf, if only he had at least attempted to fit in. But he didn't. He was not in the least really interested in his children or his former lover, but interested in creating trouble. It was common knowledge that Elrond had a high level of tolerance for unwanted guests, and was quite capable of forcing himself and his children to take unmitigated levels of insult in stride for the sake of peace. Aragorn had confirmed his thoughts, saying that there was enough of a likeable recklessness in the elf for him to be a humorous friend. But neither liked his brash self-smugness or the way he treated the nobility of Imladris.  
  
"Ada is fine, Aragorn," Elladan called out, "the child is doing well."  
  
"When will you start to show?" Aurief asked sweetly, "You used to grow very quickly if I remember rightly."  
  
"He will show in his fifth month or thereabouts," Elrohir ground out, a hand span away from hitting his so-called father. His mother had never been the warmest of women, or even been there very much, but she had been a good mother as far as she was able. Even though he now saw that she had been unable to care for them, she had still given them the illusion of love, finding some acceptance within her for the children that were supposed to be hers and yet could never be. This man had never been any kind of parent and did not even try!  
  
"Aurief," the voice was quiet but cut through everyone's tensions like a knife across an infected wound, "I believe we need to talk. As the entertainment for today is over and my health and the child's is guaranteed, perhaps you will leave us in privacy?"  
  
Arwen and the twins nodded, followed closely by a not-quite-happy Aragorn and an openly reluctant Glorfindel. Legolas alone did not leave the room but sat coldly down in a chair and challenged Elrond with his eyes to make him leave. He had never looked more like a Prince than at this moment and the ruler in all but name of Imladris did not bother to argue with such determination. Sighing, he turned instead to the source of his recent worries.  
  
"You have outstayed your welcome," he said baldly, "When will you leave?"  
  
Aurief raised a dark eyebrow and laughed, a hand fondling a delicate porcelain statue on an intricately carved wooden table. "When I am bored, Elrond, but not before then. You know me well enough to know that!"  
  
"I do know you," Elrond ceded, "And that is why I tell you now- you are not welcome! I do not like your insults and insinuations. My children do not like your insults and insinuations. My closest friends do not like your insults and insinuations. If you look for a pleasant holiday amongst us then you will be sadly mistaken. I advise you to leave."  
  
"And what of Lady Galadriel's thinly-veiled order?"  
  
There he had him. It was not that Elrond feared being discourteous to the Lady of the Golden Wood and her spouse; it was simply that she never did anything without a reason. And now that he was allowing himself to keep the child, his love for it grew with every passing day. He would not be able to bear it if something happened to her.  
  
He wrapped an arm around his midsection, a curiously hard look on his face. "My daughter will not suffer harm," he swore, stifling the panic as best he could, "My daughter will not suffer at all if I can help it!"  
  
Unerringly, like a hawk to its prey, Aurief pounced, a rich sound of gloating in his silvery voice. "Was that what you once said of Celebrian? We were in bed and I asked why your wife could not bear you children. We argued and you swore to protect her always. You could not do it, melethron; you could not be everywhere she needed help."  
  
Elrond stumbled back at the force of such a verbal blow. His arm tightened as he thought of the world that he brought his children into, not just the one inside him but the two sons whose lives were touched by bloodshed and hate and the daughter who saw the darkness just as he himself did. He had failed to protect them as well and how would this time be any different?  
  
"Elrond, melme, sit. Sit down; come on," Legolas urged him, forcing his limp body into his chair before turning with fury such as he had ever known blazing in his chest at the sight of the smirking Lorien elf. "Get. Out. If I seen you once more today, I will kill you."  
  
Aurief shrugged, bowed reverently before the Elf Lord still gasping in the chair like a dying fish, and went silently from the room. Once outside he let his glee show. Oh, he had not meant to be quite so cruel but he had hated what had happened to his childhood's friend.  
  
Celebrian and he had never been lovers even for a moment- he preferred males to any other and she-elves left him cold and unmoved- but he had felt her pain and rage the day he had last seen her before her departure. He had been rambling in his upset, finally blaming Elrond for the whole business because it had been to Imladris that she was travelling, to go once more to her husband and children. What had stunned him was the flash of emotion in hitherto expressionless eyes, the bitterness of her face and the absolute lack of ostentatious protestation of Elrond's innocence. So he had known the way she really felt for her husband, and it had fanned his own bitterness into a flame that still threatened to consume him.  
  
Which was what made his plan so much simpler! Elrond was a revered and much- protected Elf Lord and hero of the First Age, but when it came to subtly he had as much sense as the child growing inside him. The wide lips curved into a charming smile of glee; the plan could safely go ahead in a few more months. 


	9. 9

Author's Note: Generally fluffy. But it is the fifth month now. And more of the plan is being revealed.  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
"Come riding with me," Glorfindel said tersely.  
  
Aurief looked up from his book in the library and glanced at Elrond's averted face before shaking his head. "Thank you but no. I do not plan to ride today."  
  
"I think you should," Glorfindel insisted, flexing his fingers in readiness to physically press his point, "The fresh air will do us all good."  
  
Aurief simply ignored the seneschal and went back to his book. Elrond glanced behind and caught the glint of dark glee in his old friend's eyes just a second before a dagger was at the Lorien elf's throat.  
  
"I insist," Glorfindel murmured pleasantly.  
  
"Glorfindel!"  
  
"Turn your head, my Lord, and your conscience will not trouble you." Aurief's face darkened to pure anger for a second and then deadened again. He stood up with a shrug and carelessly dropped the delicate book on the floor. The dagger bit deeper into his skin. "Give me one last reason to cry insult and I will slit your throat," Glorfindel warned softly.  
  
Elrond carefully looked in the opposite direction. He heard the door open and the sounds of noiseless footsteps. He heard the door shut and then the absolute quiet of a room empty for all save him. He let out a relieved breath, and then choked as the door crashed open on its hinges.  
  
"Ada!"  
  
"Yes, Arwen?"  
  
"What exactly are you doing here?" the elf-maiden demanded, folding her arms while her grey eyes flashed with vengeful ire.  
  
Elrond contemplated the papers in front of him and then looked enquiringly back at his daughter. What did it look like he was doing? Baking a cake? "Working," he answered clearly, as if talking to a slow-witted child.  
  
"I see. And was I hearing voices when Elladan and Elrohir told you to stay in your bed this morning?"  
  
"Arwen, if you do not know the answer to that, then I certainly won't. I do not know if you are mad. I have enough to worry about without dealing with insane daughters who hear voices. Go tell Aragorn; I'm sure he will kiss it and make it all better."  
  
"A-DA!"  
  
"Arwen, saes! Do not shout!"  
  
"What in Mordor is going on?" Erestor demanded, running in with his braids flying. "Who is killing whom?"  
  
"No one is killing anyone," Elrond howled, throwing down his quill and feeling his rage increase a hundred-fold when the document he had been working on so carefully the whole morning was splattered with ink drops, "For the love of Elbereth, will everyone just leave me in peace!"  
  
"That's it," Legolas growled, stalking in, "everyone- out! Now!"  
  
Having the Lord of Imladris screaming at you in a rage was terrifying enough; having his extremely possessive lover glare at you with bow and arrow in hand was sufficient to make both Arwen and Erestor abandon whatever purpose they had in mind when they entered the room and exit very quietly.  
  
Neither Prince nor Lord relaxed until after the door was shut and not opened again for the space of ten heartbeats. Then they turned to each other and stared appraisingly.  
  
"Legolas, what are you doing here?" Elrond sighed, trying to control his sifting emotions.  
  
"I was on my way to practise my archery," Legolas returned quietly, "And you are not supposed to be here. I left you alone because you promised me that you would stay in bed and not get out until Elladan had seen you again. It is the fifth month, melme, and the pregnancy is a difficult one. Do you really mean to endanger your life and the life of our child on a whim?"  
  
"Legolas, I am skilled enough to judge when it safe for me to leave my bed," Elrond groaned, feeling an unaccustomed desire to burst into tears. Even Celebrian and his first healer had not been so constricting. "I would never hurt our daughter! How can you think so little of me as to believe that?"  
  
"Melme, I do not think that at all," the archer gasped hurriedly, chucking his bow to the side and kneeling at the stricken half-elf's feet, "Oh Valar, do not cry! Not again! You know I have no skills to deal with this. Hush, now. It's all right. Ssh!"  
  
Once the unforgettable sight of a weeping Elf Lord comforted by a reed-slim archer was over, Legolas sat back and looked away considerately while Elrond pulled himself together. That his lover hated giving in to such urges was understandable; no warrior would like to be in such an emotionally vulnerable position. For where would the world be if every elf in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men had burst into tears on the battlefield from the horrors of war? Though the troops of Sauron might still have been defeated; they would have died laughing at such a ridiculous sight!  
  
Wracking his brains to think of ways to change the subject, he fixed on one particular point that had been bothering him for a long time- "Elrond, how do you know you carry a girl?"  
  
Grey eyes looked up and then Elrond shrugged. "She is inside me; I can tell. Besides, I have foreseen it," he explained, "In a dream. She will be beautiful. And wonderful. And very much our daughter!"  
  
Blue eyes went wide in awed wonder as Legolas sat back on his heels. "She will? Tell me more. What will she look like? Did you see her? What colour is her hair, her eyes... what does her voice sound like?"  
  
"She will save our kind," Elrond interrupted quietly, a look of immeasurable sadness on his face, "She has a dark future, Legolas. It is her burden to bear it. We can only help her until her journey begins but then I think she will leave us. I do not know what she will face, but the journey she must make is hard. I saw death in her eyes as well."  
  
A single tear dripped down the fair cheek as Legolas looked to the small mound where his daughter slowly grew, unknowing of what her destiny was as she curled safe within her parent's body. Without words he stretched out his hand and slender fingers grasped them tight, bringing them to rest on the cloth-covered bump.  
  
"Is there no hope?"  
  
"There is always hope."  
  
"And what is the hope?"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
"Then how is there hope?"  
  
Elrond glared down at Legolas, but felt his anger melt away at the sight of the grief-stricken face. It had become a habit to forget that the Mirkwood Prince was little more than a youth himself. Only a thousand years into his majority, if Elrond remembered right- and he did- while Elrond himself was over four thousand years into fatherhood itself. And he had borne his children fairly late in his life!  
  
Just wonderful, the Elf Lord thought hysterically, gathering the slight body closer to him, I seduced a child and now we're having our own child. A child is the father of my child and the Valar had better make next year worth all this effort! Perhaps, he decided somewhat desperately, Glorfindel might send up a prayer on his behalf; the Vanyan had, after all, met Mandos himself. They might actually listen to him.  
  
"She will have my hair," he crooned, "But your eyes- blue as the sky and filled with the fire of life. She will love the trees like you do, and they will love her in their turn. There will be happiness for her, melamin. And she will regret nothing in her life."  
  
Legolas nodded and worked his fingers tighter around the handfuls of robe he held in his clenched fists. His heart ached for what his child might have to endure. The world was plunging into darkness around his ears; he could feel it, hear it, smell it on the breeze. It hurt so much to know that his daughter carried the weight of Middle Earth on her tiny little shoulders before she had even been born.  
  
Desperately he raised his head, staring intently up into his consoler's face as Elrond opened his mouth to utter soothing platitudes. Words? There was no place here for words as far as Legolas was concerned. Forgetting rhyme and reason he surged up and captured the other male's lips with his, spearing his tongue into the open mouth and demanding the kiss be reciprocated.  
  
Elrond squeaked and stiffened, his senses thrown into a tail-spin by this sudden turn of events.  
  
The door opened, twin shouts were uttered, and the door closed again.  
  
Legolas pulled away for two reasons- Elrond desperately needed to breathe and he wanted to know who their intruders had been. Absently listening to his love pant like a goldfish out of water, he called for the two to enter again.  
  
The door cracked open and two pairs of suspicious grey eyes looked in with identical dark frowns.  
  
"Need you both do that in the library?" Elrohir demanded, "Anyone might have walked in and then everyone in Imladris would know."  
  
"And why would that be a problem," Legolas snapped, rising to his feet and folding his arms aggressively.  
  
Elladan rolled his eyes and pushed past his brother. Ignoring Legolas all together, he looked around the blond to his father still sitting in the chair with his mouth open. "Ada? How do you feel?"  
  
"Dazed," came the reply.  
  
"See?" Elrohir broke in, wagging a finger at Legolas, "You've sent him insane."  
  
"I'll send you somewhere too, and it will look like the Halls of Mandos if you don't stop acting ridiculous," Legolas retorted.  
  
Elrohir snorted but stayed his tongue when Elladan shot him a warning look. The older twin bent over his father. A gentle tap on the lightly bronzed cheek and silvery grey eyes looked up with mild enquiry. "Ada, how many fingers am I holding up?"  
  
"I would tell you but there are too many," Elrond muttered, a hand rising to his head.  
  
"I thought so," Elladan chuckled, "If you can stand up, I'll help you back to bed. Thank the Valar that Arwen came to find me when she did. You might have passed out in the library and then no one would have found you for the whole day."  
  
"I can't think why this happens," Elrond moaned, his head spinning as he got to his feet. The first step might have sent him tumbling back down if not for the strong arms that held him up.  
  
"Is there pain this time? No? That's good then. Come, Ada; one step at a time. Legolas, might I ask for a favour?"  
  
"Anything," the blond swore fervently, startled that a simple kiss had had this reaction.  
  
"Would you not kiss him for the rest of the day?" Elladan asked sardonically, "I don't think even Ada's strength will stand this twice in one day."  
  
And in spite of all the efforts to keep the pregnant Lord of Imladris and his child safe from all harm- apart from such things as headaches, cravings for nuts and swollen ankles which really couldn't be helped- away into the thick of the woods a certain plan was being discussed. It was a plan that involved the child borne safely back to bed in her father's body, and the plan involved the capture of the Elf Lord who bore her.  
  
But again, in spite of the best laid plans of mice and men and Lothlorien guards, the Lady Galadriel looked into her mirror and frowned slightly. She stared for some measure of time before looking away and mulling it over in her mind.  
  
Then she proceeded to look for her husband. Calling his name in her mind, she ran him to ground in the State Room.  
  
The silver head rose and looked towards her. Haldir and Orophin melted away out the door and the Lord of Lothlorien rose to take his wife's hand in concern. "What is it?" he questioned, handing her into a chair, "You have seen something in your mirror?"  
  
She nodded and looked up with her wise eyes. "It is Elrond, he is once more with child."  
  
"With child? Well, that is not our concern. Celebrian is many centuries in Valinor and we have no reason to interfere."  
  
"I do not talk of this for interference's sake but there is danger," Galadriel insisted, "Aurief is with him."  
  
Celeborn's face changed. The two were so attuned to each other's ways of thinking that instantly the male elf knew what lay in his love's mind. "He means harm to Elrond and the child, I take it. Does he seek revenge?"  
  
"No, and that is what surprises me," the lady admitted, one fair hand rising to absently play with the delicate mithril pendant hung around her neck, "He will not harm them himself. But he plots to help those who want the child, Celeborn. And he does it for money." 


	10. 10

Author's Note: Chapter Seven has been reworked and a few ambiguities cleared up (hopefully).  
  
Author's Note2: Could anyone tell me whether Glorfindel is 'Vanyan' or 'Vanyarian'?  
  
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Glorfindel returned in one cool autumn evening with murder shining in his blue eyes. Erestor took one look at him and pulled him into Elrond's study. Once there, he whipped a length of rope out of his pocket and tied the Balrog Slayer's wrist to a chair.  
  
"There," the steward commented satisfactorily, "now you will need to think before you raise your hand."  
  
Glorfindel glowered at his friend. This trick was familiar to him; it had been used times without number on Elladan and Elrohir when the two had been elflings. The Lord of Imladris had shied away from the sight of any member of his family tied up- even if only an illusion- and let them both get on with it. But Glorfindel considered himself well past the age of tutelage!  
  
"Get it off me now," he ground out, "I have someone I need to see."  
  
"Oh? Need to see an elf about a horse?" Erestor teased, "I have just realized something- you look very pretty in rope!"  
  
Glorfindel broke reluctantly into a grin. Only Erestor, he reminded himself ruefully. "Very well! You have had your fun and made your point; I will not kill Aurief... yet. Untie me."  
  
Erestor instead smiled and left him there. Elrond and Legolas walked in a few minutes later and discovered a swearing, spitting Balrog Slayer still tied by his strong wrist to the chair. They eyed him in some disfavour, both not sure that they wanted to know the reasons for his unexpected appearance.  
  
"Untie me!" The blond yelled, yanking his wrist so hard that the arm of the chair groaned, "There are murders I must commit!"  
  
Elrond backed slowly to the door and put a protective hand to his stomach. The action was enough to get Glorfindel to still. Looking hurt at the indirect admittance of his old friend to the belief that he was capable of hurting him, he sat down and sulked.  
  
The silence was deafening. "Is there something wrong?" Legolas finally asked timidly.  
  
Blue eyes glared up balefully though Glorfindel made no attempt to move. "Erestor has tied me to a chair and left me here to languish of hunger and Lord Elrond seems to imagine that I would cause him and his child injury. Does anything in that seem wrong to you?"  
  
Elrond looked down in some consternation and hastily dropped his hand. Coming forward, he began to untie his friend. "I do not fear you," he said soothingly, "Had I believed you would harm me I would have left! Or ordered Legolas to kill you."  
  
"You comfort me, mellon nin," Glorfindel murmured, sharing a sarcastic look with his amused Lord, "Remind me as to why I protect you with my life when I am clearly so dispensable?"  
  
"Because you are a true friend and I trust you with everything I have," Elrond said placidly, pushing him out of the way so he could sit.  
  
The Elf Lord lowered himself into the chair with a sigh. He was rapidly reaching the level of big enough- being in his eighth month- to truly feel uncomfortable. And oh, but how his back hurt! And he knew it was about to get worse.  
  
If only the Lothlorien healer would arrive! Elladan and Elrohir were beginning to have nightmares about being left to do the delivery themselves. Only this morning, Elrohir has trembled and turned ashen as he spoke of a dream in which he had finally been unable to find the child once he had made the cut. Elrond had kindly forborne to mention that the baby would be big enough by then to be absolutely in obvious view. There was no way even a blind man could miss the child in such small confines!  
  
He opened tired grey eyes and looked at Glorfindel's still cloudy face. "Would you like to tell me why you were preparing for two kinslaying under my roof?"  
  
"The first was Aurief." Legolas was certain that the Vanyan actually gnashed his teeth at the name. "He led me a pretty chase through the woods! I finally found him sitting in a tree and laughing just before he disappeared again."  
  
"Aurief has that interesting personality trait," Elrond agreed, his hand already going to the plate on his desk, still half full of rose petals and apple blossoms that were just begging him to eat them, "Who was the second?"  
  
"Erestor, naturally! He tied me to a chair and left me!"  
  
"You did not think to pick up the dagger I keep in my drawer and cut yourself free?"  
  
Glorfindel stared at the calm half-elf eating colourful flowers to the drawer to his bruised wrist before walking to the window. Pushing his head out, he shouted a hoarse cry of frustration to the gathering dusk before coming back to stand in his former position. "My recent adventures in the wood have addled my brain," he said expressionlessly, "If you will excuse me, I'll go to bed and stay there."  
  
"Sleep well, Glorfindel," Elrond called.  
  
The door shut with the utmost quiet and the Lord of Imladris held his breath and counted to ten before even attempting to stand up. It was rather embarrassing to do so in any case and he was frequently finding himself making excuses not to move no matter how uncomfortable the seat.  
  
"Would you like me to help?"  
  
Elrond glared at Legolas. "This is all your fault, you know," he huffed, "had you not asked it of me I would never have gotten pregnant."  
  
"But then we wouldn't have our daughter!"  
  
Legolas was already turning into a fanatical father in spite of the fact that he had not even met his child yet. True, Elrond had jumped only the other day when he felt movement for the first time; but Legolas himself had not had the courage to ask to feel. Nevertheless, he was sure his daughter would be worth everything.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"Help?"  
  
The blond chuckled as pointed ear tips burned red in embarrassment and then bent to help the blushing Elf Lord lever himself out of the chair. He placed a reassuring kiss on the nearest reddened cheek and held on for just long enough to offer comfort. "You only need ask," he whispered, "After all, you do so much for me."  
  
Grey eyes turned to him in astonished bewilderment.  
  
Legolas timidly touched the swelling mound beneath the altered robes. "You give me someone to love," he said shyly.  
  
They shared a smile, both deliberately letting go of inhibitions for this sweet moment to savour life as only the three of them. It would likely never be so, for Legolas could not speak and Elrond likely would not, and even should either of them work up enough courage to say something there were others to consider as well. Namely, the child's half-siblings!  
  
Dinner was, as usual, provided by Erestor personally in a converted room in the Family Wing. The Lord of Imladris had hidden himself in seclusion for the past month and more, not wanting news to spread about his condition to any except immediate family and friends. Only one thing disturbed him- why had Galadriel not sent word of her knowledge?  
  
Elladan brought up the same question. "Ada, why has the Lady Galadriel not written to congratulate you?"  
  
"I do not think she will be pleased, ion nin," Elrond reminded him, "It is probably too much to hope that she will appreciate this situation."  
  
"Is that why she is so silent?"  
  
Elrond and Glorfindel shared a look. "She would have made her displeasure known," the seneschal murmured worriedly, "How is it that she has said nothing? And there is no word from the healer you sent for either."  
  
The three looked perturbed but changed the subject. Galadriel was, after all, quite capable of being cryptic out of some wild belief in not interfering until necessary. But the conversation turned to other more worrying topics- "My Lord, have you any idea where Aurief is?"  
  
Legolas looked around as if expecting to see the elf burst out from a cupboard door. In truth, he wouldn't be surprised if the Lothlorien guard did; his penchant for hiding in rooms where he was not wanted was becoming frustrating. But even a careful look behind the curtains yielded nothing.  
  
"He was in the woods the last time I saw him," Glorfindel snorted, remembering the incident with some annoyance, "He headed north, I believe."  
  
"Glorfindel! How could you not stop him?" Elrond gasped, struggling up from his seat to go to the door. "There was mention of human slave traders in those parts."  
  
A look of wicked cunning and wistful longing touched the blue eyes trying their hardest to look innocently down at the white linen tablecloth. Elladan grinned into his wine; he didn't believe Glorfindel's act in the least!  
  
"Calm down, Ada," he cautioned, "And please sit back down? If you sail out into public like that, no one will pay any heed to what you have to say because they'll be too busy staring at you. Tell me what you would like us to do? It is growing dark and we cannot send our guards out to the north in the dark, surely."  
  
"But Aurief..."  
  
"Good riddance to him," Legolas snapped unexpectedly. He picked up his goblet in bow-scarred fingers and raised it in a mock salute to the window. "I hope those traders do find him. And when they do, I hope they will kidnap him."  
  
"Son of Thranduil, you forget yourself!"  
  
"My Lord, I do not! I remember myself for the first time in months," Legolas shot back, "Too long have we all put up with his insults. I for one will not tolerate it any more. The next time he has something to say to me or of you, he will say it to my face with weapons in our grasp."  
  
Elrond glared coldly down at his lover. "And if he is to be captured by slavers, do you think he will have the chance to say anything at all?"  
  
Legolas looked mutinously up at the dark face, steeling his faltering convictions against the thin-lipped sternness and furious eyes. Angering the possessor of Vilya was not to be courted. "Knowing Aurief, they will probably let him go after a day; once he has talked them into useless anger," the Prince muttered. But he sighed as well and stood up. "Sit down, melme! You do no good by standing at the door like an avenging fury. You cannot even see where you place your feet! I'll go look for him."  
  
"No, you will stay right here. Glorfindel, send a patrol of guards out."  
  
"Elrond! For once, let someone else make the decisions?" Legolas was young, but he was quite as used to being obeyed as the Lord of Imladris was. Indeed, just as much! Because in the wilds, he insisted his men obey every last order from his tongue down to the least detail. "Glorfindel, if I am not mistaken, your troops are already out combing the land for sign of these supposed Slavers?"  
  
The Captain of the Imladris guards nodded briskly.  
  
"Then I need have no fear! Excuse me for my untimely departure, my Lord, but I am afraid I have business in the woods this night."  
  
Glorfindel looked up, found Elrond's eyes flickering to him and nodded. "I'll go with him," he volunteered, "Nothing will touch him and I myself think the rumour is false." So saying, Glorfindel left, and Elladan was left to face his Ada's bad temper all by himself.  
  
Or he might have been, if only a silent half-hour later Erestor hadn't burst in and gasped of the storage rooms being on fire. Elrond made to follow the two but was hit by a wave of pain to his stomach so acute that Elladan was left wondering if he was right to leave his father for a few sackfuls of grain.  
  
"Go," Elrond ground out, waving impatiently at his worried son, "Tis nothing more than an injudicious movement. I will be all right. Send elves in to remove as much food as they can! And make sure to worry about essentials before the rest."  
  
Elladan nodded and disappeared.  
  
Which was exactly when the world went dark. 


	11. 11

Author's Note: Just another chapter or so to go, now. Um, this is gonna sound strange, but I'm suffering from wrter's angst just about now (hence, the tone of the chapter) and could someone let me know IN ALL HONESTY whether I've written something that should make me cringe?   
  
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"He wakes," someone called softly.  
  
Elrond slitted open an eye and a grey matted beard hang over him. "Mithrandir?" he mumbled thickly, slitting open the other eye.  
  
But there was no twinkling pair of blue eyes to greet him, nor yet coarse hands to help him into a sitting position. What the Lord of Imladris realized, as he came gradually to his senses, was that his hands were tied to a steel rail in a wagon, while he was seated on a floor covered by blankets and made soft with cushions.  
  
And as if that wasn't insulting enough, the man bending over him was not Mithrandir.  
  
Elrond glared at the stranger with his most intimidating stare, but as short strands of his hair were falling into his eyes and he had no idea who he was facing, he could not actually make much of an impression. His head throbbed with a sudden resurgence of awareness and the Elf Lord almost fell over backwards. "Ai Elbereth," he gasped, "Why my head? Always my head!"  
  
Hands pushed him down to his makeshift bed. "Lie still," the stranger ordered in the Common Tongue, "How do you feel?"  
  
"As if I have been hit on the head," Elrond groaned.  
  
"That is good. You were."  
  
The Elf Lord thought about that and ceded that he did remember a sudden bang to the delicate point on the back of his head where the hard bone joined the soft neck. The healer in him sent up a prayer of thanks to the Valar that the blow had not been harder for it would have surely killed him otherwise. The warrior in him spent ten seconds calling himself an idiot in every language he had ever learnt for not sensing the hostile presence behind him.  
  
And then he wasn't thinking at all because his robes were being ripped off him and his tunic gently pushed up his body.  
  
"No! What are you doing?"  
  
The stranger did not bother asking for permission but began his examinations straight away. He did, however, at least have the decency to explain things to the stricken father. "I am a healer. Do as I say and your child will be fine. Do you feel any pain in your stomach?"  
  
Elrond considered saying nothing. But as he was restrained and completely at someone else's mercy... "No."  
  
"Any feelings of unease or discomfort?"  
  
"A little."  
  
"Where?"  
  
Elrond looked at his bound hands and sighed. Eventually he simply told the stranger where to move his hand to touch the spot. "There. There is a dull throbbing, but no pain."  
  
The healer pressed his ear against the spot and listened. Sitting up, he took a cream from a bag beside him that Elrond had not yet noticed and rubbed it into the skin liberally. "It is fine. Just your muscles protesting soreness."  
  
Elrond sighed in relief. He had thought so, but for a moment had doubted his own skills. He shook his head and used his tied hands to drag himself up. His head still hurt, but he could bear it. He was an Elven Legend! Of course he would bear a simple headache! He looked to the rope that bound his hand- he didn't think he would be able to bear being tied up though. His heart was already racing too much for comfort at the thought of being restrained. Visions of war and darkness as seen through the eyes of a child filled his thoughts and he bit back a whimper as he remembered being taken captive as a child, of his hands being tied cruelly tight behind his back with coarse rope that had stung as the eyes of a dead soldier he had once known stared up at him.  
  
The healer looked keenly at the dilated pupils and the sudden film of sweat and made his diagnosis. He knew fear when he saw it and he was intrigued to know why such an apparently self-assured elf would feel fear when nothing had harmed him. But that was not his concern, the man decided.  
  
He forced open Elrond's mouth and poured a cold potion with a bitter taste over his tongue. The half-elf spluttered and pulled away, trying to spit it out with haste. But enough went down his throat to dampen his senses.  
  
"Fly," the healer whispered hypnotically, "You are safe and there is nothing to worry about. Fly to the heavens until it tires you. Then come back down and I will give you more."  
  
Eyelids drooped and dark eyelashes fluttered closed. The now ungainly warrior's body slumped, muscles relaxing completely as the mind began a journey through drugged corridors of wonder and left all sense behind. The healer lifted the heavy body to a more comfortable position and laid a possessive hand on the pregnancy mound. His fertility potion had worked and all was well. The Elf Lord was a good breeder, it seemed.  
  
Aurief waited impatiently outside, his chestnut brown horse champing beside him as it sensed its rider's distress. "Hurry," the dark elf chided, "I must be away before they come after me; else this plan fails."  
  
"If it fails, do not but be sure that King Gorrofer will ensure that you pay," the healer answered calmly, "Here is your reward."  
  
Aurief snatched the flat pieces of paper into his hand and let out a sigh. "My debts are cleared?"  
  
The healer gave a silent bow.  
  
"Then I'll bid you safe journey. Oh! But one more thing! May I see the, uh, elven mare?"  
  
The cold, stern face with its beaked nose and thin lips broke into a smile of aloof amusement. "Certainly! He will not answer you, however; I have drugged him. He was getting overly distressed."  
  
Aurief climbed up into the wagon and sent a knowing look over the still figure, the dark head weaving erratically as the thoughts floated gently through his mind. "You tied him with rope," the Lothlorien guard pointed out, "He cannot abide it. He has an unpleasant aversion to rope. Use metal and he will be more comfortable."  
  
Sensing the desire to be left alone, the healer waited outside, not listening to the soft sounds that filtered through the canvas covering. But the elf who emerged a moment later looked very gleeful in the morning sun. "By rights I should demand payment on top of the cancellation of my debts. Who else could have known how to move quickly and invisibly through Imladris while kidnapping its Lord and Master? A bag of gold will do it, for surely your new brood mare is worth it!"  
  
"My King thought you might say that. Here! That is all. Now leave."  
  
Aurief pocketed the heavy purse and laughed again under his breath. His Celebrian would have her revenge and this joke was really too good to be true- a stallion used as a mare; an Elf Lord about to become nothing more than a slave? Oh, the irony of the entire situation was worth all the risk!  
  
He rode away, hearing the whip-cord strong voice of his business partner call on the sparse human entourage to break camp and begin their journey. But he didn't care, did he? No, not at all! Because he had a purse full of gold and safe passage to a faraway land where the neither the ruling family of Imladris nor Lothlorien could reach him. He was content. There were tricks to play in this world and new adventures to find.  
  
And in Imladris, a host of travel-stained riders were dismounting from sweating horses in the courtyard. Erestor alone stood at the entrance to the Last Homely House, his face pale and his eyes hard and flashing fire as a certain blond Captain of the Guards drew nearer.  
  
"I request an audience with Lord Elrond. Where is he? I bear an urgent message from Lothlorien," Haldir asked. His Lady had looked openly worried and that was all that the intensely loyal elf needed to dispense with formality.  
  
Erestor let out a bark of unamused laughter and folded his arms. "You are a little late to the scene, mellon nin," he bit out, "I would that you could see Lord Elrond. But you cannot and that is all there is to it."  
  
Dread gripped Haldir's heart. "He is not murdered, is he?" he asked anxiously.  
  
A servant of the Last Homely House gasped and looked terrified. Erestor's grey eyes fixed on her for an instant before drawing back to face the Lothlorien captain. "Even worse," the steward answered coldly, "He had disappeared."  
  
Haldir looked taken aback. "Where?" he demanded.  
  
"If we knew, we would not have sent every able-bodied person out to hunt for him, now would we," Erestor quipped sarcastically, folding his arms and glaring as if Haldir himself was to blame for everything.  
  
Haldir returned the look with a cool regard of his own, holding his composure even when he longed to smack some sense into the other elf's dark head. So he clenched a tighter grip on his message tube, settled comfortably on his feet and prepared to wait patiently for as long as it took.  
  
Erestor sighed and tiredly beckoned the Lothlorien guards in. He handed the accompanying elves over to Lindir and bade him prepare chambers in the Guest Wing for them. Haldir he took to the room where the Lord of Imladris had last been seen.  
  
"He was eating in here when the absence of a guest was noted," Erestor explained shortly, "He was naturally worried so Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and Lord Glorfindel volunteered to seek the guest out and bring him back to the safety of the house. Elladan left a few minutes later when a fire was discovered in a food storage cabin behind the house."  
  
"And the others?"  
  
"Arwen was dining in the dining hall with Aragorn, Elrohir and myself."  
  
"Why was Lord Elrond not in the dining hall?"  
  
Erestor looked to Haldir's innocently enquiring blue eyes. Pretty blue eyes, he thought cynically, I wonder how they will look in shock. "Lord Elrond was in confinement due to being eight months pregnant," he said clearly.  
  
Haldir tripped over his suddenly leaden feet and fell crashing to the floor. "W- what?" he gasped, staring up with wide eyes and dropped jaw, "Eight months pregnant?"  
  
Erestor grinned evilly. Oh, but it had been hilarious! How nice to see the elegantly arrogant Marchwarden become a clumsy fool! Erestor wished that he could paint it so that it would forever be preserved in the annals of time. But for now... "It is a long story and one that it is not my business to tell you. I have only revealed this much to you for one reason- that."  
  
Haldir's popping eyes followed the condemning finger and saw what it was pointing at. And there, on the polished floors of the room, was blood. Only a few drops to be sure, but it was blood. And elvish blood too, if he wasn't mistaken. "Is that Lord Elrond's?" he questioned.  
  
"We fear so," Erestor sighed, "Which is why we have sent out search parties. He is in no condition to bear children and torture at the same time!"  
  
Haldir rose slowly to his feet and leaned against a tall chair back for comfort. "Help me fix this in the order of sequence," he warned slowly, "Lord Elrond falls pregnant, he goes into confinement, and now he has been kidnapped. Am I right?"  
  
"I wish you were not, but yes."  
  
"Who did it?" Haldir demanded.  
  
Erestor looked confused- "Who kidnapped him?"  
  
"No, who got him pregnant. I did not think any would have the courage to lay him on his back let alone get him with child!"  
  
Erestor glowered and Haldir hurriedly stopped looking so interested. Rumours abounded of what it was that Erestor had truly done in the war against Sauron. Some said he was a master tactician. Others said he had been a personal bodyguard. Haldir was of the opinion that Erestor had been a shadow operative. For someone who ran a household, the steward really was too good at finding answers to questions that no one else had even had the chance to consider! He knew too much about everything around him and had an innate knowledge of elvish and human nature. Which was exactly why Haldir did not feel like becoming his enemy.  
  
"I think you have seen all you need to see," Erestor growled, holding open the door with an imperious hand.  
  
Haldir shrugged and strode out, waiting for Erestor to shut the door behind him and show him to wherever they were going next. It turned out to be Elrond's study, where Elladan and another guard were pouring over maps of the area around Imladris, trying to think of a logical route the kidnappers might have taken him.  
  
"The Lothlorien elves have arrived," Erestor announced expressionlessly.  
  
If the Marchwarden thought that the steward had been less than welcoming, the heir to Rivendell was worse. Haldir barely saw the punch being thrown and caught the wrist only through hyper-sensitive reflexes. By the time he had blinked and registered it, Elladan had snatched his hand away and stalked back to the chair his father usually occupied.  
  
"Have I done you a discourtesy that I receive such treatment?" Haldir snapped in anger, his stoic temper fraying to tearing point.  
  
"You personally have done nothing," Elladan said coldly, "And I apologize for my lack of control. Why are you here?"  
  
"I bear a message from Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien," Haldir said formally, "It was meant for the eyes of Lord Elrond alone, but as he is not available I deliver it to your hand."  
  
He handed it over and turned for the door, intent on leaving a room where his presence was so obviously unwanted. Besides which, he seethed, he was tired and desirous of rest.  
  
"Wait!" Elladan snapped, eyes spitting fire.  
  
Haldir stopped and turned, every fluid line of his body tensed against the insulting mistreatment of his station. True, he was not the son and heir to a land like Imladris as Elladan was, but as the trusted emissary of the Golden Wood he deserved to be treated with some measure of respect. Where insult was done to him personally, it was done to the Lord and Lady he represented.  
  
But Elladan was abruptly forgetting his anger as his stunned eyes scanned the page in front of him. Tersely excusing the guard he had been conversing with from the room, he called Erestor to read it with him. Haldir watched with intrigue stirring reluctantly in his breast.  
  
"Has Lothlorien not received our messenger?" Elladan demanded, looking up from the letter in his hand.  
  
"We have received no word from Imladris since the Lady Arwen sent assurance of her safe arrival back to her home," Haldir answered readily, his brow creasing in thought. As far as he remembered no messenger had arrived, and he would know if anyone had!  
  
"That was in early spring, not even before the snow was fully melted. Ada was furious with Arwen for travelling in such weather; I remember that. Yet how can that be- we sent the messenger only four months ago," Elladan wondered out loud.  
  
Erestor watched in some concern and heartache as the young elf raised a hand to rub at his knitted brow, frowning slightly as he concentrated on the thoughts in his head. It was by far too much like seeing the Lord of Imladris sort through some tricky situation. And it broke the steward's heart to know that Elrond had never wanted Imladris to burden his sons' shoulders while they were yet so young.  
  
"Well, Elladan, it might have something to do with the fact that one of our own messengers came back robbed of his message," Haldir put in. Two pairs of grey eyes snapped up to look at him with shock and curiosity. "The Lady Galadriel sent a messenger to Imladris two months ago. He disappeared for five weeks and then returned injured. The message was taken from him and was therefore unable to be delivered; hence, he made his way back to us. Lord Celeborn insisted that I bring this one personally, with a contingent of guards to speed my way."  
  
"We owe much to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Erestor said sadly, "They have been to much trouble on our behalf. But I am afraid that they are still too late. The letter warns of deceit and trickery resulting in the possible harm of Lord Elrond and his child. Unfortunately, now that we cannot prevent it, the letter gives us no information on how to remedy this mess."  
  
Haldir felt the frustration of failure on his Liege Lord's behalf. There was no longer any accusation or hostility in the eyes of either Erestor or Elladan, but their heavy sorrow and loss of hope were as needling as their anger had been. He felt he needed to do something to redeem Lothlorien, stupid as the idea seemed- "If you will permit me, my men and I will stay and assist you. I will send two back to Lady Galadriel bearing the tragic news and the rest will report to you for their orders immediately."  
  
Elladan flushed and waved a hand as he bent back over the maps. "Nay, tomorrow morning is soon enough. You have ridden hard and valiantly and need rest. Besides," he added, looking up with a bitter half-smile, "Ada will half-kill me if I send you back to Lothlorien too exhausted to return to your duties."  
  
Haldir answered it with a smile of his own and let Erestor lead him to a room where he could sleep for a while.  
  
And out in the woods, Legolas found the trail of a brown mare that he knew very well. Whispering a plea to the trees for help, he called to Glorfindel to come quickly to his side.  
  
The blond cantered up and slid off Asfaloth, looking closely to the barely perceptible marks he was pointed to. Nodding quickly, he gave swift orders to his men while he and Legolas mounted.  
  
"None of your men are to touch him," the Mirkwood Prince spat, blue eyes blazing with a fury that none that ever seen before, "He is mine to kill."  
  
"He is yours," Glorfindel agreed, "But we must catch him first. Norro lim, Asfaloth!"  
  
Legolas said nothing more, but urged his Ithildin faster and ever faster, cursing himself inside his mind while he muttered prayers to the Valar for the safety of his lover and his child. For he could not but feel responsible. After all, he had lost his temper that night and run off on a wild goose chase when he should have stayed to protect the two people he cared for so much more than any other. And to his dread, that was the one thought that burned like poison on the tip of his tongue- "I should have been there". 


	12. 12

Author's Note: Thank you to those who told me to stop being a paranoid idiot in their reviews. But actually, what I meant was- is this series worth it? Could someone please tell me where it is that I have gone wrong with the canon? Apart from the 'Celebrian/ Celebrian' deal? I'd really appreciate any help in making this better. And in learning for next time.  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
"Where do we start?" Haldir of Lothlorien asked the next morning, coming to stand in front of the desk where Elladan was sitting. The blond was amused to note that the eldest twin was currently doing his best not to fall asleep where he sat, the dark hair in disarray as if someone had pulled it into spikes in frustrations.  
  
Elladan was, indeed, feeling frustrated enough to pull his hair into spikes. "Do not smirk," he snapped, "Really, Haldir! I will not stand for your insolence this morning!"  
  
"No, my Lord," the Marchwarden smirked.  
  
Grey eyes glimmered a petulant warning and then Elladan sighed. "We do not need to send anyone else out this minute. We received word not two hours ago that Glorfindel and Legolas have found the trail of the one we believe responsible and have gone after him."  
  
Haldir nodded and gestured hesitantly to a chair.  
  
Elladan snorted and shrugged. "I am not the Lord of Imladris," he sighed tiredly, "And there is no need for such formality between friends."  
  
"You have not explained things to me," Haldir began, "Lord Erestor has mentioned the, uh, worrying condition that Lord Elrond is in. I do not need to know why or how; in fact, I do not think I want to know! Doubtless I will have nightmares about it! But I do know that such things are delicate enough for females let alone males and your father cannot be left to wander the wilds like that. But who is it we are chasing? And how has he managed to enter Imladris and leave again, never mind with your Ada unconscious and dragging behind him."  
  
Elladan's eyes were bitter and hard, flickering with a fury that Haldir could respect. Had it been Orophin or Rumil, or even the Lord or Lady he served, he would have looked the same. "You should know," Elladan sneered, "Are not Lothlorien guards trained in stealth and cunning?"  
  
"Lothlorien! But how?"  
  
"He is named Aurief..."  
  
"Aurief! But why is he here? He was permanently discharged from his duties for insolence and disobedience, yes; but why should he kidnap the Lord of Imladris for that? Or is there something more than I want to know in this?"  
  
Elladan's eyes widened at the information and he straightened in his chair with a jerk. "Are you telling me he has been released from his services by you? He said he was on leave for a few months and that the Lady Galadriel sent him here."  
  
"Then he would be lying," Haldir contested, his indignation sending icy waves through the room, "The Lady Galadriel was the one who withheld my decisions. And I know for a fact that she was angry with him for some unspecified reason."  
  
"But if that was the case, then... oh, I don't know! We can only wait for Glorfindel and Legolas to return. At least, I hope that Glorfindel can stop Legolas killing Aurief for the young Prince is likely to shoot him dead on sight!"  
  
"Why would Prince Legolas want to kill Aurief?" Haldir could not help but sound bewildered and frustrated. There was too much to hear, too much he hadn't been told. And he had sworn this morning that he would keep his eyes closed and obey orders, but it was rapidly becoming impossible to function in any sort of logic in a moment where one did not have all the facts. "Do not tell me Aurief has done something to him, too?"  
  
"Yes," Elladan chuckled, enjoying the look on Haldir's face, "He has kidnapped my father." Oh, this was priceless! Erestor had been right; there really should be a painting of this moment.  
  
"But why?" The blond almost wailed, looking ready to drop his head in his hands and sob.  
  
Elladan took pity on him. He did not imagine his father would appreciate Haldir knowing, but if the Lothlorien Captain of the Guards was in any position to help them sort this mess out, then he deserved to be told the story. So Elladan told him. And Haldir's eyes grew rounder and rounder until they looked like boiled gooseberries in his head. And still the tale wasn't done. Elladan blithely described the happenings of the last few months in detail and the blond elf almost fell off his chair with shock. By the time the Peredhil had completed his tale, Haldir had a filmy look of wonder in his eyes.  
  
"The doings in Imladris are everything that is weird and wonderful," Haldir said faintly, "I beg forgiveness when I say that I am wishing for the safe monotony of protecting the Golden Woods. At least there, I do not deal with male pregnancies or kidnapped Elf Lords."  
  
Elladan grinned and shrugged. "People have called the sons of Elrond adventure-prone in the past," he remarked humorously, "They forget where we get our heritage from. And there is no one more adventure-prone than Ada."  
  
"Which one?" Haldir couldn't help but ask, "I must say- this explains your penchant for trouble-making. I cannot swear to it in front of judges, but I'm certain I once heard Lord Celeborn call Aurief the son of a forest sprite."  
  
"Thank you, mellon nin," Elladan growled, standing to his feet and taking them both from the study, "In which case I am now half-forest sprite as well as half-human. Indeed, I am so many other things that it is a wonder I am still an elf!"  
  
The arguments continued as the day progressed. Erestor was beginning to look like a trapped rat with all the extra duties he had to perform and Elladan considered it a good omen that he hadn't pulled all his hair from his scalp yet. The few handfuls would surely grown back soon... he hoped. As for Haldir, now that he had the information, he sat in a tree and chewed silently over it, looking down at his soldiers with large silver eyes that showed his mind was somewhere else entirely.  
  
And evening brought a shout into the Last Homely House- "Lord Glorfindel and Prince Legolas are returned."  
  
The horses limped into their yard and almost collapsed where they stood. Stable hands rushed to check them over, clucking their tongues as the whites of eyes rolled exhaustedly down at them. Glorfindel held a squirming, wriggling bundle in front of him that he gladly dropped to the ground as he dismounted Asfaloth's back. The stallion let out a wicker and gently kicked a sharp hoof into the middle of the bundle. A squeal of pain lifted into the air and made Legolas look like a veritable demon as he smiled in contentment at the sound.  
  
"An apple for you, Asfaloth," the prince murmured, stopping to stroke the downy nose before grabbing the bundle and dragging it out of the yard. From the looks of things, he was controlling himself from simply shoving it under a horse's hooves.  
  
"Legolas! We want him alive, not dead," Glorfindel roared, catching up to the archer and stopping him, "At least pick him off the ground."  
  
"Not I," Legolas snapped, "I don't want his filth on my hands. I don't mind mud; but him... I don't know what infection he might spread to me, vermin that he is."  
  
Erestor and Elladan shared an exasperated look. Legolas' dramatics were a source of amusement for the entire audience around him! Not that anyone would ever laugh out loud; nobody wanted an arrow between the ribs.  
  
Haldir solved the squabble by appearing suddenly behind the two and picking him up while they were occupied. He set the tied captive on him feet with a non-too-gentle hand and shoved him towards the house. "Where is he to be held?"  
  
But Legolas had lost his temper- and very likely his sanity- in the crawling hours without information and to find Aurief did not have his lover or child anywhere in sight had been too much to bear. Glorfindel had only just stopped him from running rampage back to Imladris. The sight of Haldir's insolent decision to take his captive away seemed like the last straw.  
  
Before anyone knew what had happened, an arrow was pulled from the quiver on his back and fitted to the bow with one fluid motion; the wickedly sharp tip was currently pointed to Haldir's throat. "He is mine," Legolas said quietly, "Step away from him and leave him be."  
  
"You cannot kill him, Legolas. We need him alive to tell us where Ada is," Elladan said urgently, "Oh Valar, now is not the time for hysterics!"  
  
"Hysterics are when I do not think clearly, mellon nin. I am thinking very clearly." The bow string pulled tighter in anticipation and Aurief's dark blue eyes widened in fear. And it was that sight which made Legolas drop his hands and put away his weapons. "Bring me another horse," he called harshly, "I will not enter that house until Lord Elrond returns."  
  
The group silently waited until a fresh horse was saddled and brought to him by trembling stable hands. No one spoke a word until he had galloped out of sight, the white of his face enough to warn them that control was a fine thread stretched too tight within him. When he had departed, a collective sigh of relief and sorrow was heard before Elladan grasped a handful of the captured elf's dirt-smudged tunic in his hands and shook.  
  
"You will tell me everything," the Peredhil swore, "Or I will make sure you never use your legs again!"  
  
Had Elrond heard that, he would have been horrified. Then again, with the way he was currently feeling, he might have offered to do it himself. His head no longer ached and the rope had been replaced by chain, but he was still tied to a steel rail in the back of a wagon and his back hurt a little more than he could bear.  
  
The healer who seemed to be in charge of this strange procession had examined him in the morning and when they had stopped during the afternoon, but other than that he had been left to his own devises. His body was aching for the drug that he had not been given recently and with the amount of sweat that was currently dripping down his body, he realized with a sickening feeling that he was addicted to it.  
  
As if on cue, the healer called a halt. Elrond tried to look out, but the flap was closed and there was no light to assist him. He forced himself to lie back on the cushions and relax, but there was no relaxing while his blood lamented for that sweet potion that had sent him soaring to the clouds like an eagle.  
  
"I see you miss your drug?"  
  
Grey eyes looked to the face and shoulders peering in at him from the entrance. He grit his teeth and elected not to answer.  
  
The man entered, his garments appearing a little strange to Elrond's educated eyes. It was not the clothes in themselves- which were, after all, only tunic and trews- but the design that patterned it, and the dark colours that dyed it. There was something about this man that said he came from a people that Elrond hadn't met yet; even his accent was different, though he spoke the Common Tongue fluently.  
  
"I would not be so insolent, slave," the man growled, bending over the elf lord and smirking.  
  
Elrond's eyes widened at the word 'slave'. Slavers! Had the rumours been true and he had been captured by them? Were they mad to think they could capture an Elf Lord and still live to escape to their own countries?  
  
He was so lost in muddled thought that he didn't see the warning before it was too late- the back of the man's heavy hand crashed across his face hard enough to whip his head to the side. He gasped, straightening his neck with a quick shake.  
  
"Our friend, Herdir, will not be coming to care for you tonight, my friend," the man chuckled, "I would advise you not to make an enemy of me."  
  
Herdir? Elrond blinked in confusion. What was a human healer doing with a name that meant 'Master' in Sindarin? He tried to clear his head to think in coherency but that blow only seemed to have made things worse. And his tremors were getting worse. He could hardly see unless in double vision and the back of his tunic was soaked with sweat. He turned away and utilized all of his considerable will in not moaning out loud.  
  
Evidently the man sensed it was useless to say anything to the extremely determined elf sitting chained up in the wagon and got about his business. He pushed the tunic out of the way, grinning with a sneer at the sight that confronted him. Elrond turned his head and refused to acknowledge the derision that bit into the very depths of his soul. He said nothing as the man performed what few duties he had been prescribed and let himself be covered with a blanket against the chill night air. But when the familiar bottle was brought out of a pocket and brought to his mouth, he wriggled away.  
  
"Get that away from me," he snarled, "fool of a human! Have you no sense?"  
  
"I'd hold my tongue, elf! And drink what is given to me! Herdir will not stand disobedience."  
  
"I am not addicting my child to that poison before she is even born," Elrond spat, "Take it away. I will drink no more of it."  
  
"Suit yourself," the man sighed, putting the bottle back into his capacious pocket and preparing to leave, "You will suffer for it. And your child will likely be weaned on this potion... as will all the others."  
  
"Others?"  
  
Green eyes glinted wickedly at him from under bedraggled hair of a rich brown. But the handsomeness of the young man's face was spoilt by his weak chin and cruel mouth. "Do you think we keep you for your company? You are already sold to King Gorrofer. He has a mind to breed his heirs from a prestigious male elf. As for your child," the man scoffed openly, "I don't doubt but that Herdir will sell the mongrel to the highest bidder."  
  
"Wait! Why can she not come with me?" Elrond gasped, eyes wide at the thought of his daughter sent to foreign lands with neither family nor kin, treated like a possession rather than the person she would be.  
  
"King Gorrofer does not want her. Besides, the daughter born by an Elf Lord as renowned as yourself will likely will fetch a high price. Sweet dreams, my Lord."  
  
"Wait!" Elrond called desperately, feeling needle-pricks begin to pierce his skin.  
  
"What is it now, slave?"  
  
"May the flap be left open?" the Peredhil asked. He would not beg; he would not beg; he would not- "Please!"- beg.  
  
All he got a quick shake of the head and was then left in stifling darkness again. He slumped backwards, feeling something tear inside of his mind at the terrifying information he had just been afforded. He had seen this, he had foretold this. But he had not thought his daughter's journey would begin so soon! And he would never see her or hear her voice. She would be lost to him.  
  
The tears came then, slipping quietly from clenched eyelids as he fought to keep his shivering body in check.  
  
And Legolas? What of his child's father? How would Legolas survive this? Elrond shied from thinking that his disappearance would hurt the Mirkwood Prince, but he took it as certain truth that Legolas would do something drastic if his unborn child was wrested from him without trace.  
  
And beneath the blankets, he felt the sharp pain as his daughter moved within him. And that only seemed to make his mixed emotions worse. 


	13. 13

"Look up. Now!"  
  
Elrond heard the harsh voice, it registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite understand what was being asked of him. He shook his head and turned away, biting back a cry as his jaw was seized and his mouth forced open. A scalding infusion of herbs was forced over his tongue, hard fingers massaging his neck to make him swallow. He did so and was allowed a few seconds of respite.  
  
"Herdir, he will not eat! I have tried!"  
  
"He will," the healer promised, "If he wants to escape the pain of his present existence then he will eat. I will not let him die."  
  
"iel nin..."   
  
The expressionless face broke into a twisted mask of surprise as the elf began to struggle to sit up. He was too big to accomplish it without help but he seemed to try anyway.  
  
"iel nin..."  
  
Somewhere in Elrond's mind, he knew he had been chained in the back of this wagon for three months. It had been three months too long for him. Brief glimpses of the sun and the sky... the stars had been a moot point as far as he was concerned; he hadn't been allowed them. The air was musty and dry, parching his throat with a cruel hand. He had faith in only one thing left to him.   
  
"Your child is safe," Herdir said abruptly, "But you need to eat."  
  
Elrond raised his head and swallowed whatever it was that was pushed into his mouth. It could have been a scorpion and still tasted of sawdust. And it did absolutely nothing to replenish his strength; he could feel it ebbing away day by day.  
  
A hard slap to the face got him to open his eyes. He blinked slowly a few times, shivering in the winter cold that was the only part of nature that still infiltrated the muggy depths of the wagon.  
  
The feeding process was long and not terribly pleasant for any of the participants. Herdir was getting the distinct feeling that something drastic was needed to bring the elf out of his depression. For the Elf Lord had been a personable, presentable slave when first captured. And now he looked too thin for his height in spite of being only two weeks away from his due date. The bones of his face were angled so sharp that were the King to set eyes on him as he was, it was likely he would demand his money back before he cut his hands open touching his new slave! And as for the dark hair! The men had all agreed that singed rope looked better.  
  
"There is no potion, Herdir?"  
  
He looked to the green eyes currently staring at him, wondering coldly at the glint of caring in those eyes. But an idea was sparking in his brain, an idea that might involve more money for him. Perhaps with two slaves for a slightly higher price?  
  
"There is no potion," the healer confirmed slowly, "He is dying."  
  
The man started back as if struck, wide eyes turning to the wagon half- hidden in the foliage where it had been concealed for almost a month. He didn't notice the icy look from cold eyes.  
  
"But King Gorrofer!"  
  
"I will keep him alive until the birth," Herdir shrugged, "after that he will die with the strain. Perhaps I can offer the child in the elf's stead. She will be beautiful if Aurief was right. The Prince of Mirkwood is famed for his beauty and the slave is handsome enough. And it is said that the Lord of Imladris has the ability to foretell the future. She will be a prized possession."  
  
The man calmed down reluctantly, except there was still a glimmer of worry. "And there is nothing we can do for the elf?"  
  
"There might be a chance," the healer admitted slowly, "He has given up all hope; if he were to regain it, he might return to health."  
  
He said nothing more and lay down in his bedding by the fire to rest. Keeping their captive concealed for three months had been no joke, but the slave's condition was so delicate that the journey to the docks might have killed him well before he was even put on the ship. Knowingly he kept his eyes open and watched the dark shadow that crept to the wagon and climbed in. Only then did he smile beneath his covering and let sleep take him.  
  
"Slave?"  
  
There was a voice calling his name. Or what passed for his name these days. The half-elf found he had to constantly remind himself that he was Elrond son of Earendil every time he woke up, otherwise he tended to forget it. He opened his eyes and blinked short-sightedly at the face bent anxiously over his.  
  
"What... is something wrong?"  
  
"You're dying." The words seemed to whisper out from the human's mouth, gusting in warm breath over his face.  
  
Elrond considered that fact with the last bit of lucidity that was left to him. "I know," he answered quietly, "Leave me be."  
  
But hands grabbed his arm, shaking the bones slightly and rousing him from his apathy enough to concentrate. "You must wake! There may be a way for you to survive this," green eyes pleaded with him to listen and from long habit he made the effort, "You must return to your senses."  
  
Elrond smiled, a mirthless smile of hysteria. "How?" he questioned, "I have nothing to live for."  
  
"You have your child!" The words were no longer whispered and the voice was no longer soft. There was sneering derision and something else. It took him a moment to recognize anger. "If you die she will be given in your stead. The King requires a mate; how long do you think he will wait to use her?"  
  
Grey eyes snapped open with a fire that sent the human stumbling back. Had Glorfindel or Erestor seen it, they would have recognized that look. Only in selected times had Elrond ever looked like that, and only when the well- being of his children were threatened. The shivering bundle of skin and bone grasped at the chain and hauled itself upright in a burst of energy.  
  
"Harm my child and my family will not rest until she is revenged," the elven warrior snarled, "Lay one hand on her now and I will kill you myself."  
  
"How? You almost fall where you sit. You cannot think straight and your body is so weak that it will likely break should you fall."  
  
"And what else would you expect from me?" Elrond demanded, hysterical and half-demented as hormones and fear worked equally to screech over his tormented nerves, "I have not seen the sun for nigh on three months! I have smelt no fresh air and the stars no longer shine down at me! I cannot see my father..." his voice broke though he hastily shook his head and dared the human to pity him.  
  
Clearly the man did not understand the reference to Earendil, but the general gist was enough to pierce his understanding. He cast a cautious look behind him to where the rest of the small camp was sleeping and then nodded to himself. "I can take you outside," he sighed reluctantly, "But only for a few minutes. Do not make a sound or you will regret it. Herdir is not forgiving."  
  
"The healer," Elrond said quelling, "Is an idiot! He should have seen this before!" He kept his arms as still as he could while his hands were released. He was not surprised when the manacles were not removed; it would have been foolhardy for the man to be so trusting. "I call no man 'master', human. Do not refer to him as such in my presence."  
  
Weak as he was and shivering uncontrollably, the haughtiness and authority in that silken voice made the man smile in relief, for it was the voice of an Elf Lord who brooked no argument. "Yes."  
  
Carefully he helped the slight figure to rise, feeling the male sway precariously on his feet with light-headedness and awkward balance. Elrond had grown big enough that he was forced to over-compensate for the expanse of his stomach to lean backwards. In a covered wagon, it was an impossible position to keep.  
  
The human ended the short tussle between elf and gravity by carrying him out. He was just questioning the wisdom of his actions when they emerged into the cold freshness of a winter's night.  
  
Elrond gasped quietly and hid his face in the human's shoulder. After months of being trapped in that small space and the pains of his pregnancy, it felt like the release of death to breath fresh air again. He peeped up and saw the stars smile down at him, glittering in the purple-black sky like the rarest of jewels. And there- the brightest star of all! He barely noticed that he was crying, only that the human placed him gently on the ground.  
  
There was snow beneath him and he felt the wet coldness seep into his clothes, but oh, it was the most invigorating feeling he had ever been blessed with! The shaded boughs of evergreens ringed his line of vision, framing the sky with a painting-like quality. And unerringly he did what he had been prevented from doing for three long months.  
  
His hand found the swollen mound under which his child lay and he whispered soft assurances in elvish for her ears alone. His heart soared as he felt her tiny kick shudder beneath his palm and then lay back, uncaring of what would follow as he found pleasure in nature once more.  
  
The stars shone and twinkled as if for him alone.  
  
And on the borders of Mirkwood, a golden haired archer was staring up at them with tears in his eyes. Standing on an outcrop of rock and staring up at the stars that refused to guide him to the two people that he believed he had failed.  
  
Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir stared at his silhouette as if he might disappear if they looked away.  
  
"Do you think he will ever forget?" the ranger whispered.  
  
Elladan shook his head, forgetting his own heartache for a moment. His face was drawn and pinched, deep circles beneath his dulled eyes. Aragorn was torn between worrying about Legolas and his twin foster brothers. Both parties looked like they were about to collapse from pain and exhaustion.  
  
"I think we should speak to him," Elrohir said, moving towards the golden figure glowing in the moonlight.  
  
Two pairs of hands pulled him back urgently and two voices hissed at him to stay where he was. "The last time Glorfindel tried to speak to the Prince, Legolas disappeared for three days into the forest in self-reproach," Aragorn reminded Elrohir.  
  
Elrohir subsided with bad grace. He was distracted enough by the pain he and his brother felt without having to succumb to another's. Having lost their mother had been bad enough- to be told that their mother had never loved them and finding that their new-found father had just betrayed their Ada for cancellation of his gambling debts had been too much.  
  
But he could understand a bit of what Legolas felt. The blond had become a tormented soul for the past three months, flitting from search troop to search troop like a restless spirit. For the tale Aurief told was a dismal one.  
  
"Do not watch me so closely." The voice startled the three of them out of their respective reveries. Legolas dropped down beside them with a tense jaw and pain-filled eyes. "Have the elves of Imladris no manners?" he asked, the black humour falling flat in the darkness.  
  
Elrohir gave up. "We worry for you. You blame yourself for what was not your fault and that is not healthy. Should Ada be found, he will be most distressed to see you now."  
  
"Should?" Legolas's hand was a blur of movement as he punched Elrohir hard in the face. The twin went sprawling into Aragorn's arms, startled and pained by such unexplained treatment. But Legolas' mood had already changed and he bent hurriedly over his victim. "Elrohir! Elrohir, mellon nin, forgive me! I- I did not mean..."  
  
"No," Elrohir snapped, gingerly touching his bruised jaw, "No, you did not but you did! You are not the only one who suffers, Prince of Mirkwood. I am his son and I have no other parent! Think you I feel no pain at this?"  
  
"I love him."  
  
Now that took everyone wholly by surprise. Indeed, Legolas himself went slack-jawed at the realization. But then a moment later he stood straighter, a new light in his eyes as if daring anyone to protest.  
  
"Well, that is news," Aragorn commented, wracking his brains to find the words, "And sudden. I did not know you felt that way."  
  
"How did you think I felt? Indifferent? He carries my heart as well as my child and I have lost them both."  
  
The rocky ground offered no protection against the winter's wind that whipped through their hair and blew around their figures, drawing them closer to each other in an effort to keep warm. And all around the snow stretched its cold fingers nearer and ever nearer underfoot.  
  
"Elladan, Elrohir, I..." Legolas hesitated, a hand out as if to ask for something, "I do not know what this means, but I am sorry. I did not protect them as I should have."  
  
Elladan sighed and wrapped his friend in a one-armed embrace. "You could have done no more than you did. It is all right. Come! If we will not sleep tonight then it is better if we travel until we are tired. Those travellers spoke of a small group of men in the forests. We are three days' journey from there."  
  
They nodded to each other and shouldered their packs. The small pocket of wooded area for which they were headed was not the most friendly of places. It lay on the far borders of Mirkwood and King Thranduil had been most reluctant to let them go without proper armed guards. But as it had taken him two days to believe the incredulous tale brought to him by his son, the small group had not bothered to wait but ridden off as quickly as they could go.  
  
By the time the frigid winter's sun rose once more, Elrond was back in his wagon with hints of colour draining back into his grey skin, eyes shining with a determination to life that had been absent from them for too many weeks to count.  
  
His sons and his lover drew ever closer to him, though he did not know it. Not that he would have cared either way. For by the next night, a shocking state of affairs occurred- he went into labour. 


	14. 14

Author's Note: Only another chapter or so to go. But the climax is finally here!

Author's Note2: I recieved a flame very recently from '**Autumn**'. In reply to your complaints: yes, Elrond is behaving in a slightly feminine manner. But then he is undergoing a pregnancy. There are hormones involved! Also he is feeling ridiculously weak at the moment due to his captivity. He has been in the back of a wagon for three months with no hope, knowing he is being sold as slave for breeding purpoes (which, by the way, is something he is ashamed of) and his daugher is to be sold as well to people who will likely want her only for her usefulness. Try living without nature for three months- even without an elvish connection to nature- and see how you are affected by the smell of fresh air! If there was something in particular, I would be honoured if you could send me your email address or something so we can sort this out. I'm not upset, truly; you're entitled to your opinion and certainly entitled to express it. Indeed, I'm happy you have! But I think I should be allowed to defend something I put so much effort into, don't you?  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
"Keep him still," Herdir snapped, sending another man to light a fire and boil water in preparation for the operation.  
  
Elrond bit back a cry of pain and kept his eyes closed very tight. His manacles had thankfully been removed, so he no longer had worry about that. But still, he currently had hold of the hand of his only friend in this place and concentrated on trying not to break every little bone in the appendage.  
  
But as the hour crawled on, it was obvious that they were in for a long wait. And that worried everyone, for the Elf Lord was not in any condition to undergo a long labour, nor was it likely to benefit the child seeing as how it was two weeks too early.  
  
With all the chaos in racing around anxiously, nobody in the camp noticed when a pair of blue eyes stared down at them from the boughs of a tree, or even when grey eyes watched them angrily from where they were hidden in the depths of the surrounding trees.  
  
Aragorn looked to Legolas, who was currently gazing at the men as if to kill them with only a glance. And had such a thing been possible, the camp would have been nothing more than a large pile of ash. But the nudge he received from his foster brothers brought his attention back to the work at hand.  
  
As far as the Ranger could see it, it would be more than easy. For the men seemed too distracted to notice them until it was too late. Legolas looked down and caught Elladan's nod.  
  
The three on the ground drew their swords and the one in the tree readied his bow...  
  
It was over in minutes! With the men kneeling on the ground while Legolas and Elrohir stood guard over them. The blond was visibly bouncing up and down as Aragorn and Elladan disappeared into the partially hidden wagon, a frown on his fair face that dissolved in a comical mixture of apprehension and delight as Aragorn's shout for Elrohir floated out.  
  
"Stay here," the younger twin ordered, sprinting off to answer it. He wouldn't let himself believe the worst. But then again, the best would hurt too much too, so he kept his mind as neutral as it was possible, telling himself that it was nothing more than something they wanted his opinion on.  
  
Until he was reaching for the canvas flap to pull it aside and a loud cry of pain came from inside. Then he dropped his sword and scrambled up, hauling himself in with wide eyes that strained to see in the darkness.  
  
What he saw, were two white faces staring worriedly down at a writhing, squirming being who was so lost to his body that he barely registered who exactly it was who was holding him down.  
  
"Ada!"  
  
But another contraction hit and the Elf Lord responded only by biting down on a scream and ripping at Aragorn's hand. From the look on Aragorn's face, it hurt.  
  
"Elladan, what..."  
  
"Quickly, muindor nin, he is in labour. Take off your jacket and bring water. We have no time to move him; we perform the birth ourselves."  
  
"But what if we can't find the child?" Elrohir was perfectly well aware that he wasn't making much sense, but he had the right to be panic- stricken, thank you very much!  
  
His father glared up at him with frustrated grey eyes. "Do you imagine that my body is this size because I ate too much? The child is big enough to see in a dark room!"  
  
"All right, all right! Hush, now! Elrohir, just get the water?" Elladan was torn between laughing and crying and decided that nobody would appreciate either of those options.  
  
And in another part of the same forest- which was wondering why there was so much happening in its confines after years of being avoided by most living beings- a strange party of riders were chasing the trail that they had been told the party of four had taken.  
  
Glorfindel promised himself that if this was another wild goose chase, he would go on no more in this frenetic way. In his heart of hearts, he knew he would break the promise, but after countless times racing to places where he hoped his Lord might be, he was getting too disheartened to keep going. But surely this time would be right? Surely this time?  
  
He spared a glance for the healer who was insisting that they set this pace. Lady Galadriel had sent him to Imladris the minute she got word that her efforts had been in vain. Aurief had been turned over to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel until such time as Elrond was fit enough to give evidence against him. Not that they really needed any- Aurief had been so terrified by four hours locked into a room with Erestor that not only had the Steward come out looking like a smug Cheshire cat, but the Lothlorien elf had been more than happy to tell them everything he knew.  
  
"Faster," he called, "We are almost there."  
  
The journey that had taken five days on foot was no more than two and a half days on horse-back. And the riders pushed their mounts to their limits, anxious to reach the elusive Lord of Imladris if he truly did wait for them at journey's end.  
  
And so the forest waited in wonder and watched. by On one side, there was the miraculous though very dangerous birthing process and on the other was the party of rescuers who were terrified about the situation on the first side going wrong! It was beautifully tangled and very complex; the forest was intrigued.  
  
Legolas had relinquished his place to Aragorn and escaped to the dark confines where his child was being born. Though there was no sign of anything happening at the exact moment as the contractions were too erratic and Elrond had forbidden his sons to cut him until he told them.  
  
"Melme, you cannot take much more," the blond tried to tell him, "You need to let Elladan finish this!"  
  
"No," the half-elf pleaded, "Not yet. It will... will not help if it's..." he was cut off by a sharp shooting pain that had nothing to do with contractions. "You're right. Elladan, get on with it."  
  
"Are- are you sure?" Elladan asked, feeling his nerves begin to fail him. Orcs he could slay, trolls he could face, but bring potential harm to his father and his sibling was too much.  
  
Elrond gripped Legolas's hand so hard that the Prince let out a sudden yell and squirmed. But neither let go. They seemed to hold a quick conversation with their eyes and then Legolas turned pale and nodded to Elladan- "Hurry. And whatever happens, keep the child alive."  
  
Elrond sighed with relief and seemed to lay down with peace. His features relaxed and his body no longer fought the pain for everything was all right. His daughter would be born and Legolas had promised to see to that. It was ironic, he thought dreamily, he had almost killed the child fearing he would be distracted from his duties and here he was, giving life to the elf-maiden who might one day save her race from some unspecified danger. Perhaps Herdir had done more good than he'd ever intended!  
  
Elrohir was sent to get the healer's equipment and Elladan leaned over his Ada and began to chant him to sleep. Placing a hand over Elrond's closed eyes he murmured the hypnotic string of words that his Ada had taught him to use, sending him as far into the elvish dreamscape as he possibly could. Legolas kept a tight hold of his lover's hand, murmuring reassurances in his mind so as not to disturb anyone.  
  
By the time Elrohir returned, they were ready and waiting. Aragorn wanted desperately to be there, to be with the elf who had given him home and family, but he couldn't risk leaving his captives to escape. Or could he? His ears were not as quick as elves' were, but he was certain that he could hear the thud of hoof beats. In which case... he dared to hope it was a good omen.  
  
"Elladan, wait," he yelled, not dropping his sword or moving the direction of his gaze.  
  
Elrohir stuck a very displeased head out of the wagon- "What is it, Estel?"  
  
"Listen, Elrohir," the man called, "horses approach."  
  
Elrohir's eyes went wide. "Oh Valar, not orcs too! I'll go mad!"  
  
But they had all heard it too late and the horses burst into the clearing with fiery eyes and steaming flanks, the riders sliding off immediately to disperse and take efficient control.  
  
Elrohir almost fell out to the snowy ground as he grabbed Glorfindel and pulled him to enter. "Ada's here," he babbled, "He's in labour. Elladan's going to... no, it's Glorfindel! And Haldir too, yes."  
  
Elladan was obviously holding a conversation with his brother until a roar that sounded like Legolas seemed to remind everyone exactly what it was they were doing in this forest in the middle of winter. In which case, the healer was bundled in and his case of supplies tossed in after him. Glorfindel came to find Aragorn standing with his back to a tree and a hand over his eyes.  
  
"How is he?" the seneschal asked anxiously.  
  
Aragorn lowered his hand and shrugged. "He might not survive it," the man said carefully, "From what I saw he had been starved. He does not look very strong."  
  
"Ai Elbereth," Glorfindel breathed, clenching his fists by his side, "Those pigs had better pray that his life is spared; else they will not escape to death without much pain."  
  
Aragorn said nothing but the two walked slowly to the wagon where Haldir already stood, golden hair shining in the pale winter sunshine. He turned decisive silver eyes at them and wordlessly drew a flask from his pocket. "Here," he said, "I asked Erestor for this. You look worse than Lord Elrond sounds."  
  
Aragorn thankfully accepted a mouthful or so of the miruvor and handed it to Glorfindel. Haldir had been right. In spite of being sent into the dull mists of sleep, there was enough pain that the unconscious father could not keep back the groans or soft cries of pain that he would normally have swallowed.  
  
Inside, the situation was even worse. The healer looked very grave as he selected the right knife and decided where to make the cut. Now that clothes had been shucked and replaced by the cleanest blanket they could find, Elladan noticed a scar on his father that he had never seen before- a long, slender scar just below the navel where someone had obviously make a quick, clean incision.  
  
Legolas felt every shred of pain as if it was his own and he trembled to take at least some of it on himself, to bear it so Elrond didn't have to. But there was nothing he could do except hold on and try to will his strength into the now frail body.  
  
The healer looked from his knife to the others and then made his cut.  
  
Elrohir felt his stomach shift but nobody shut their eyes, used at they were to blood. Even the blood of a parent was not something that could horrify them any longer. What did make them cringe was the shriek of pain that ripped from the pale throat of the reclining figure that began to thrash.  
  
Glorfindel winced and snatched the flask back to gulp down as much of its contents as he could fit into his mouth. Haldir spared a wince of sympathy and Aragorn bit his lip and shifted. There was nothing they could do anything about! There was no foe they could fight, or battle they could win. It was a war for nature and the Lord of Imladris alone and they could only stand by and watch.  
  
The blood was efficiently wiped away as fast as it ran as the healer leaned forward and widened the opening. Legolas mewled in disgust and protest as the sensitive hands slowly began to pull the wound open.  
  
Elrohir growled but forced Elrond's shoulders back down to the cushioned floor. He hardened his heart against the piteous cries and did not look at anything except where the healer's hands disappeared into his father's body. Anything else could wait, he thought desperately, once the child is out everything will be all right.  
  
Glorfindel was just ready to throw a fit and go take a long walk when another voice began to cry as well.  
  
Everyone in the clearing stiffened and stared at each other.  
  
The cries of a newborn infant sounded especially loud in the silence.  
  
Legolas almost fell over, unconsciously squeezing the limp hand in his. His daughter was wriggling in Elladan's slender hands, covered in blood and mucus. She was red, wrinkled and wailing, and the Prince of Mirkwood was enchanted. She seemed the most miraculously beautiful thing he had ever seen.  
  
Without knowing it, he turned to Elrond's glazed eyes and dropped a kiss on his cold forehead. "She's beautiful, Elrond," he whispered, "You were right. She is wonderful."  
  
The healer exchanged a quick smile of knowing with the twins before asking for their help. His patient was bleeding far too much but he was confident that if he acted now everything would be fine. "Give the child to her father and assist me, my Lord."  
  
Elladan nodded and carefully wrapped the little bundle of life in a blanket. Grinning his congratulations, he placed the child in Legolas' arms and turned away.  
  
Legolas was, in short, terrified. This was no bow or knife or even something that could protect itself! This was a baby and what if he broke it? But then puffy eyes stared up at him and he felt the unaccustomed urge to coo like an elf-maiden at the sight of something so cute. He settled the child in one arm and returned to holding the cold hand that also needed him.  
  
"Ssh," he whispered, though not quite sure who it was he was talking to, "everything will be fine. Everything will be all right."  
  
For an hour the healer and the twins fought for the life of the prone Elf Lord, but finally he was breathing evenly, his eyes shut as his body slipped into an exhausted sleep. Legolas' lip was bleeding from where he had bitten it too hard and the child was getting restless.  
  
"It's over," the healer said tiredly, washing his bloodied hands in the basin of water.  
  
Elladan joined him and then took the child back. "She needs to be cleaned, Legolas."  
  
Elrohir, stole her in his turn with a wide grin. "You've already held her," he teased, "Let me do this."  
  
The Mirkwood archer stumbled out and stretched the knots from his spine and legs. He did not look to the three who were anxiously regarding him; he was too overwhelmed. After everything that had happened, he couldn't believe that everything was all right!  
  
"Well?" Glorfindel was developing a nervous tick in one eye and Aragorn was tight-lipped in dread.  
  
"The child lives," Legolas said neutrally, not looking up, "A girl, like Elrond said."  
  
"Legolas!" That was Aragorn's temper getting the better of him.  
  
Then the blond turned, letting his wet eyes speak for him. And just when Glorfindel was about to collapse thinking that his Lord had departed his world and that he had failed him, Legolas began to smile. The smile stretched into a grin. Soon the grin was wide enough to light the world!  
  
"He will survive," the healer broke in, climbing stiffly down, "It was a battle, but he has a strong will. The child is beautiful in every way. Lord Glorfindel, I do not, however, encourage you to move either of them for at least another day. For one thing, he will likely go into shock if you do, and I would like him to wake first."  
  
Glorfindel nodded vigorously, blue eyes wide and eager. He looked to Legolas who nodded, still grinning and disappeared into the wagon for a while.  
  
Haldir looked amused to see Aragorn and Glorfindel hop impatiently from foot to foot. But the second that the proud father reappeared with his child held gently in his arms, the two almost melted into the snow. Whatever it was with children, Haldir laughed, this one would never lack for allies.


	15. 15

Author's Note: Yes. This is it: the final chapter! Really, it's just tying up a few loose ends. And yes, to Reona- this might just have a sequel.   
  
----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Legolas woke to the delicate sound of soft singing from the room next to his. He lifted his head, blinking the haze from his eyes as they adjusted to the darkness of night. For a moment his tired brain couldn't quite grasp what was going on and then he remembered- the third night back in Imladris! His lover! His child!  
  
Oh Valar, what was going on now?  
  
He rolled out from under the sheet, stumbling to the connecting door and opening it gently in case he was only hearing things. From all he remembered of the way he had been acting in the past three anxious months, he would not have been surprised to know he was going mad.  
  
The door opened just a little and he peered in. A slight figure stood at the window, singing a lullaby he hadn't heard before. And the moonlight shone to cover both child and father in a silver sheen. The softest of gurgles told him that the infant was wide-awake and looking for something to do.  
  
He did not even realize that the song had ended until the deep voice called to him. "Do not stand in doorways, Prince of Mirkwood. Come and greet your daughter."  
  
He grinned slightly and stepped forward, padding noiselessly across the cold floor in bare feet. He was pleased to note that Elrond had at least dressed warmly enough considering he must have been woken up from his sleep.  
  
"She is awake, is she? I'm sorry she woke you," Legolas said softly, coming to stand behind the half-elf.  
  
Elrond turned slightly in his seat and offered her up with a tired smile. "It won't kill me, Legolas. I have been tired before."  
  
"But not recovering from something that nearly killed you," Legolas said with a bitter severity, "Indeed, I should order you back to bed! Erestor and your sons will have my hide if they know I let you sit up like this."  
  
"You let me do nothing," Elrond said, the words soft and carrying a healthy warning in its stiff tones, "I do not need a nursemaid. I am somewhat older than my daughter and I would thank you to remember that."  
  
"I meant no harm..."  
  
"I know," Elrond broke in quickly, "There is a... bad taste to concern these days. It feels constrictive. I apologize for snapping."  
  
That got Legolas' attention. For not only did he truly believe that Elrond apologizing to anyone for reacting in such a way was ridiculous, but he had a few demons of his own that needed to be exorcised before he could be comfortable again in that beloved presence.  
  
"You have no need to apologize," Legolas hissed, rocking his daughter gently in his arms and smiling down at her even though his eyes held sadness, "If anything, I should beg for your forgiveness. I left you to languish in that- that wagon... and with those humans!"  
  
Elrond stood up and turned, catching the window sill before he pitched head- first out the window in that irritatingly persistent dizziness that he was still waiting to be rid of. Elladan had spoken to him of this, as had Aragorn and Arwen and Glorfindel and a few dozen others. Even Thranduil had contrived to see his grandchild alone for a few minutes and demanded that the Lord of Imladris do something to ease his son's faltering spirit.  
  
"You broke him; now fix him," the King had said bracingly.  
  
"Melme, you did not leave me to languish anywhere," he began patiently, the other hand reaching to cup a pale cheek, "The slavers were the ones responsible for my ill-health, not you. There is no blame to be placed on anyone here... except Aurief and Herdir. I believe Galadriel and Celeborn will do all in their power to see that both will suffer for it. We need not worry about it. It is in the past."  
  
Legolas was silent for so long that Elrond began to fear he had said something wrong. But one look in those blue eyes told him that the others had been right- Legolas was tearing himself up inside over something. When Legolas did move, it was to step away from the half-elf to take their child back to the crib in the outer chamber. The wet nurse looked up from her chair and nodded to his silent glance. Taking the baby gently, she made her way from the rooms to take a walk in the gardens.  
  
Then Legolas went back to Elrond and stood just far enough from him that he would not give in to temptation and catch the thin figure up in his arms. For one thing, he feared breaking bones as Elrond was still much too thin from his ordeal, and for another, he did not know how the other would react to such a silly gesture.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Legolas?" Elrond prompted, sitting on his bed and gesturing to the blond to sit beside him. He would have preferred to do this anywhere but in the bedroom where his daughter had been conceived, but still. He could not choose such things and did not try.  
  
"It is not in the past," Legolas sighed finally, shaking his head and staying where he was, "It plays in my head every minute. Three months, Elrond; you could have died before then."  
  
"But I didn't," his lover emphasized, holding out a hand that brooked no argument, "I did not die- just as you knew in your heart I would not- and we have our daughter. All is well for us."  
  
Legolas took the hand but still did not sit, only standing before the half- elf. He looked down at the tired face with the grey pallor still tinging the light bronze skin as he absently played with the slender fingers of the hand he held.  
  
"What is it that troubles you now, Legolas?"  
  
"You will think me a child..."  
  
"Nay, melethron; I already believe it," Elrond said, smiling as he saw the dark look he was given for that crack. "Enough dramatics! Tell me simply and truthfully what it is that gives you that unbecoming frown."  
  
Legolas sighed gustily again and then wryly decided not to. He might end by blowing Elrond away, what with the shocking weightlessness of the Elf Lord. "What if such a thing happens again?"  
  
"It will not," Elrond said confidently.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Elrond looked up at him for a moment in contemplative silence and then shrugged. "The healer assures me that I can bear no more children. The birth was too irregular and it has damaged whatever it was that allowed me to carry them. I cannot conceive now even if I were to be used as concubine."  
  
Legolas glowered at the distasteful reminder of what had faced his lover and sat down beside him. "That is not the point," he contested hotly, "What if something were to happen to you again. What if you were to be hurt, or die as you almost did this time? What if I could not find you in time? I would go mad. And if these three months were anything to go by, I'd send everyone around me mad too!"  
  
"I sincerely hope that you will not! Glorfindel and Erestor would be very dangerous if they went mad," Elrond commented, "However, I do see your point. Insane Balrog Slayers aside, I would not like you to be so affected. Legolas, if something were to happen to me, then it will happen. If the Valar will it, then it will be so. There is nothing anyone can do to change that."  
  
"I know! But I cannot accept it!"  
  
"Legolas, I know you feel guilt but..."  
  
"It is not guilt that makes me fear for you," Legolas interrupted. He looked expressively to the innocently enquiring Elf Lord and then blushed when realization dawned. "I will not say anything because I know you do not feel the same."  
  
"I- I... I mean, there... what... I... Are..."  
  
Legolas calmly put a hand to Elrond's mouth, effectively silencing the stunned half-elf. "As I said, I do not expect you to reciprocate my feelings. And truly, I would not know how to act if you said you did! Let us not speak of it."  
  
Elrond still stared at him with wide grey eyes and nodded slowly. He had never thought that such a thing would happen! Lovers, yes; but in love? He hadn't thought! No, an annoying little voice said in his ear, you never gave anything much thought before you bedded him, did you?  
  
He wanted to defend himself but filed it away in his mind for a private moment. He did not want Legolas to think he was hearing things. It would probably make the Sylvan elf rouse the entire household in a panic. He hurriedly tried to think of a safer topic that could be discussed in the darkness of night as they sat on his bed together.  
  
"What shall we name her?" he asked. Of course, since Legolas had unconsciously left his hand over Elrond's mouth and Elrond had forgotten to first remove said hand, it came out as a jumble of sound.  
  
The hand was promptly removed.  
  
"What name shall we give our daughter?" Elrond asked, more sedate now.  
  
For an hour they debated the topic, trying to fix a name that would aid her in her unspecified quest as well as suit her heritage from both fathers. They narrowed it down to nothing. Neither of them quite liked the suggestions that the other presented and in the end, they both went to their separate beds feeling very disheartened at the prospect of naming the lively little parcel that constituted their daughter.  
  
The next morning, Elrond insisted on being taken to the dining hall. Legolas offered him his arm and lectured him all the way there. The few elves who met them, stared after the two with mixed curiosity and worry. Fantastical stories of male pregnancies and slavers filtered through the hallways, passing from pointed ear to pointed ear. The Lord of Imladris was currently the source for much speculation and rumours. And for that his people thanked him.  
  
"Ada, what are you doing out of bed?" Elladan questioned.  
  
"I was planning to eat, but if you have another suggestion, I will listen," Elrond said pleasantly, too happy by far to be home to worry overmuch over his children's scoldings. They had gotten so much worse since the birth that he had developed the habit of listening to them with only one ear, gliding away into his thoughts as they tried to wrap him in cotton wool lest he break.  
  
Arwen rolled her eyes and grinned as Elladan huffed in his seat and threw up his hands in mock surrender. "He will not listen," she laughed, "Even now he is thinking only of how to persuade Erestor to let him start work again."  
  
Elrond looked startled and stared at his Evenstar. He blinked in confusion and then smiled ruefully as the others laughed at Arwen's perceptiveness. The only person missing was Aragorn, and he had promised to return in a few weeks for a short visit. After all, he had grinned, he needed to introduce himself to his best friend's child and his Arwen's new half-sister!  
  
"Legolas and I were thinking of names for the child," Elrond began.  
  
The three Peredhil children looked to each other and then turned to Glorfindel and Erestor. Just as Legolas began to suspect something, they looked to the two fathers and chorused, "Bronwe," in one voice.  
  
Elrond was a bit taken aback but thought it over. He asked for Legolas' opinion with naught but a raised eyebrow. The blond nodded, smiling as he reached beneath the table for his hand. "It seems fitting," he whispered, "It took much faith to have her. And I placed all faith in the Valar that they would bring both of you safely back to me."  
  
Arwen pointedly stared down at her plate and busied herself with eating as if no intimate conversation was occurring at the table. Erestor and Glorfindel followed her example, but the twins unashamedly listened in.  
  
"Bronwe," Elrond murmured, tasting the name on his tongue, "It will remind her of happier times in darkness. We are agreed then?"  
  
"I like it."  
  
They looked to the others. "While I am certain that all of you have heard every part of that conversation," Elrond said dryly, "let me clarify it- we accept your suggestion."  
  
Elrohir turned kindly to Erestor. "You will have another student soon," he said joyfully, "Imagine the delight!"  
  
Erestor turned white and choked. He looked to Glorfindel and both shivered as they looked imploringly to their Lord. Elrond only looked sweetly back at them with a mocking look of warning, as much as if to say- "Dare you insult my child?"  
  
"Yes," Erestor gulped, "Delightful!" 


End file.
